At the Daybreak
by Angevelinka
Summary: What if the Fourth Kazekage didn't die after Orochimaru's attack? What if the Fourth Hokage was still alive? The possibilities can be more surprising than you think. Yaoi, MinatoxFourth Kazekage, possible future GaaNaru or NaruGaa.
1. One: The meeting

When he'd been a child, he found a baby bird.

But maybe calling it a baby was being too kind, the poor thing looked more like an aborted fetus with a beak than something he'd associate with the small sparrows that littered the area he lived in. It was small, the hideous shade of pink he would later find out was almost exactly what second degree burns looked like after healing, with toothpick-thin little claws - so thin they were almost transparent - and wings much the same, covered in the stiff sticks of the yet unformed quills. If one ignored the large beak, those quills were the only clue anyone would have that the thing was supposed to be a bird, because the rest of the thing was covered in more of that horrible nightmarish pink color, all the round small form of it.

It looked like an ugly little heart. It looked like a tiny little tumor.

He had stared at the thing for a long while, and then he had left, because his mother had told him a mama bird would never pick up a baby that had been touched by humans. If he had asked, she would have also told him that mama birds sometimes threw their babies from their nests because they were sick and they couldn't afford to have the rest of their babies to catch whatever the weaker one had.

He came back to look around several hours later, but the fetus bird was still there, maybe not as loud as before, but just as talkative. He had came closer, and he had looked for its nest, but it was too high, and he would never reach it, because back then, he'd never would have guessed someday he would be able to walk on trees and water as easily as he could on solid ground. Back then, he hadn't known anything at all.

He'd stared at the crying, complaining thing, the unstopping chirps slowly gritting on his nerves until he could barely stand it anymore, and then he'd thought –he remembered- he'd thought _I should kill him_. He'd thought it was pain, that it was lonely and that it would die alone and scared and not even knowing where it was, because the ugly thing couldn't even open its eyes.

When he found the man twenty-six years later, he thought of the bird again. He thought it to be ironically fitting; a dead bird left in the path of a snake.

There were three bodies in total, and as always he searched through them thoroughly, trying to find a cause, a reason, trying to find some clue as to how the man's mind worked, why he would do such a thing. Trying to find a purpose, the tell-taley sticky threads of a plan.

The men looked like standard sunanins, likely chuunin or jounin. They weren't wearing the heavy vests of the profession, so there was no way of telling, but he knew they were puppeteers - the dark clothing, caps and face paint were a dead giveaway, as well as the bulges of scrolls strapped to their bodies.

They carried the standard weapons of a ninja and somescrolls that looked interesting he had distractedly stashed to analyze and see if he could use in the future. He might not know shit about how to handle chakra threads, but he did know the poison the things carried could be incredibly useful if he found a way to extract it without getting himself killed in the process.

It was the third body that called his attention, because it was the only one with a trail of blood going for maybe five or six steps. Either Orochimaru was getting sloppy or getting more sadistic with age. The man had to have survived for a little while, which was strange. The other two had been clean deaths.

He tried not to think much about it, about the casualties and innocents- thought maybe that wasn't the way to describe any shinobi in this world was it? If he'd been any more cynical, he could have thought that for the mere action of accepting a headband, anyone could deserve such a thing. All the bloodshed, of the losses, all the pain, not just deserved, but maybe earned.

A fairness to all these seemingly senseless actions… It was a good thing he wasn't that cynical.  
He had been reflecting on the embittering thoughts while he carefully moved the body around, noting the body to be somewhat laxer than the other two had been and thinking- _What a waste_.

What a waste, to have died here, to have died this way, out of being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, in the path of the wrong person. It was when he'd actually tried to search for the man's belongings and he had accidentally touched the skin that he noticed it. The skin only lukewarm, not cold like the other two.

He'd stopped, thinking about the other two bodies, thinking about the stifling heat, even two levels down this abandoned village that had been half eaten by the sands. One would have thought that in this impossible warmth, the bodies wouldn't feel that much colder once lifeless, but they did. They weren't _cold_ like corpses had seen before, but the difference of temperature between himself and them was very noticeable. It was also different from what he felt. But the man wasn't breathing… Was he?

He'd stopped staring at the deathly pale figure lying on the half eroded and sand-covered stone floors, ignoring the annoying feeling of trickles of sand falling from the somewhat unstable roofing whatever had been above them when the village was alive had been, and placed a hand on the sticky black of the man's clothing.

The blood was warm.

He left his hand in place, but for a few seconds nothing seemed to happen, and when it did it was so light he almost missed it. For a second he felt a light push against his hand, even its light weight seeming a strain. He drew back in horrified wonder, looking at the bright blood soaking his hand, at the deathly still figure next to him, thinking, calculating.

He was behind. He had purposely lagged so he could be close enough to catch the warm trail but still far enough he would be able to see that the area was safe before actually approaching.

He was at the very least two hours behind, if not more. And Orochimaru wasn't an idiot. Maybe a sadist, but not an idiot, and if he'd left someone to suffer, it wouldn't be for this long, not without some sort of insurance to be certain there were no lose end to foil whatever he was plotting now. No lose tongues to speak about. But the man was alive, though it was obvious he was agonizing. He hadn't been able to tell he was alive, and true, he hadn't been expecting him to be, but he would have noticed otherwise. He already smelt like death.

If he killed him now, it would be helping him, wouldn't it? It wasn't like if he would survive, no matter what he did. He wasn't that good at healing… he knew something, maybe he could be considering above average, simply because he'd been forced to learn or face swift, feministic punishment, but he wasn't that good.

Not to fix something like this. _Maybe if I'd come sooner…_ The guilt tasted old, tasted familiar and somehow comforting in its masochistic perfection.

Too little, too late to be of any good. He should kill him. It would be merciful of him to end the man's' pain. It was the last he could do wasn't it?

_(Should I could I could I not?) _

How familiar. How very ironic a struggle to decide, just like when he'd been seven, should he take this life and stain his hand to show kindness? Should he be cruel and prolong someone's pain for his own selfish peace of mind?

Back when he'd been seven, he had stood over the scary figure of that malformed thing with a rock held high over his head, and he had asked himself the same thing. It had been simpler terms, easier things to decide, and _what would the right thing to do_ and the _decision_, and he had thought… He'd thought of the reasons he would do anything at all, the reason he was thinking of killing an animal that doomed to death from the beginning.

He was there, and walking away was no longer an options, so the question now was, why would he choose either option? And he had wanted it dead, because it was disgusting, because the pain in its cry frizzled his nerves and hurt him in the first stirs of understanding that some things couldn't be helped, no matter how hard he wanted them to, no matter how hard someone tried to prevent them. If he had killed the bird, it would have been for himself, not for it.

The thing wanted it live, or it wouldn't have been trying so hard. The bird decision was clear. He'd taken the bird with him, to provide what little help he would been able to offer.

The baby bird lasted two days. The man lasted longer.

'It's not that we don't like you… you're only standing in the way.'

He saw them, the group of people he had met before, the people with whom he had patched for a peace and war. The missing nins.

They were standing right above him, one of them, the grey-haired, young and cocky as he simply watched the other and the leader, the infamous Otokage, the sennin, the Orochimaru…

He watched as the man drilled his sword into him and pierced him to the ground. He saw this and the man smiled and he, instead of looking into the golden-yellow eyes of his murderer, stared at him, seeing himself in the faintly mirroring glasses. He saw his own face, pale, paler, paling to the point of being grey, he saw his eyes, wide opened and filled with fear he thought he could hide, and his mouth, only vaguely opened in a silent scream of pain that took all his voice away.

He heard the laughter as the blood tainted so deep with red spilled through his mouth and polluted his perfect make up of a puppeteer, the vine swirls across his eyes, nose, lips. His heart fastened the heartbeat, rapid, panicked, pushing the life out of him, killing him.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt!... And they only stood and laughed. That couldn't be.

'Help!' he tried, opening his mouth, using his will, his strength, his fear 'Help me! They're murdering the prime man of the country! The life of Kazekage is being taken away! How dare you? How dare you! Abominable cowards!...'

He yelled it all and yet, it died in his voice chords like a heated soup, gurgling, steaming. And then the sword moved and he gasped, writhing up along the path as it was being taken away, the long phallic thing taking his innocence, because he was not guilty… not guilty!...

'_Don't!_...' he wanted to say, but the whisper died at his lips as the pair turned around, chuckling that they had what was not theirs, successful, obtained. '_Give it back!... My life is not yours!..._ '

And yet, he didn't have it. His blood poured out along with the ink that covered the skies and the floor, spinning from the dots to puddles, from puddles to rivers, from rivers to seas. Only his chest was colored red, scarlet red, and it looked like cherries and tasted like oceans, and he knew it was wrong, so very wrong, it colored his fingers violet and his lips blue and he couldn't get up even if he felt he had to run… he had to run for help!... Somewhere… To home… family…

'Help…' he rasped through his grey-blue mouth, feeling how his strength gave away, leaving him weak, unprotected, uncovered like a newborn baby. 'I'm dying…'

And he couldn't even lift his hand anymore.

And suddenly, out of nowhere in the dark there he was, the man, the Orochimaru, who laughed at him once more and sat near him, too close, too close… Like a robber, like a vulture near his dying dinner. He couldn't move even if he wanted to, tried to, panicked, scared like if he was not forty but only three, unable to do anything. He looked as pale long fingers got to his wound and drowned in it, gushing more blood, causing more pain, much more agonizing pain… He gasped, screamed, begged wordlessly. And the man only laughed, laughed, laughed…

'Please, stop!' he roared, finally pushing at one of his hands at his own will, gripping the claws with his own hand and squeezing is at tightly as he could. The man stopped and started wavering, like a big wave on the ocean…

And suddenly the hand was not inside his wound but over it and the face of his was no longer deathly pale, but he couldn't even see the features, it was so blurred. He had only grasped the glint of the blonde hair.

'Karu... ra?...' he rasped, and then his eyes had rolled to the back of his head, making him losing his grip, making him lose everything.

'Am I dead? Am I dead? Am I dead?...' chanted in his head in echoes as he had spiraled down into the abyss of unconsciousness. Maybe he had saw an angel…

In the end, the clue he'd needed from the beginning in had been the man.

He hadn't know who he was when he'd brought him, the brownish-red, reddish-brown of his hair not enough a tell tale feature for him to recognize after almost fifteen years, and his features somewhat distorted by the paint.

He had tried to wipe it off, but all he had managed was to smear a thinner coat over most of the redhead's face. He wasn't a puppeteer, and he didn't use their special make up. He had no idea how to remove it, and he wasn't about to use water to try it. He'd only been in the desert twice during his life, this being the second, but once you reached Wind country, water conservation grew on you, or you died of thirst on the first day.

The key was the name the man called him.

_Karura_. Karura-sama. The wife of Yondaime Kazekage.

The wife he had sacrificed to their bloodthirsty Sand deity.

Karura wasn't a common name at all. And no one would address the wife of the Kazekage so familiarly, dead or not. And the Yondaime Kazekage had hair this shade, didn't he? And would Orochimaru go so far as to try to strike a deal with the younger man. So far as to try to kill him?  
It took him some time to find a suitable replacement.

It took him a comparatively shorter amount of time to disfigure it in a way that simply looked like if wildlife had done what it did best and continued the circle of life. No one would notice one less thief in the desert, and if no one had told him to beware lone travelers, then it was his fault.

More of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, really, but the thief was no one, and the Kazekage was more than just a clue.

He left the body with the other two and carefully erased his steps again, returning to the man who didn't get better and didn't get worse, just seemed stuck in between as if he didn't know which way he was supposed to go.

The wound was healed- well, closed- already, even if it had taken him over two days to get it right, but there was nothing he could do about blood loss. He didn't know the man's blood type and risking to give him a transfusion, even if he had had the equipment, would have been incredibly stupid. So he waited.

As a young man, he had never believed in signs. He didn't think he would have been able to change anything back then if he had when it had mattered, because nothing could have prepared him for what happened, nothing at all. But the fact Suna's uncontrollable monster had been brought to life just around the time Kyuubi's new vessel had been conceived…

Well, he wasn't so prone to believing in casualties, now.

So, the man could survive, or he could die. He might force him to drink and he might make him to swallow whatever things he forced down his mostly unresponsive throat, but that's all he could do. If the Kazekage survived, it would be a sign that he had done the right thing, that he was supposed to go on with his plans. And if the man died…

He waited.

As the sun slowly settled down, hiding behind the horizon as irregular droplet of orange juice on the reddish, thick sky, the sign of change could have been spotted.

It began slowly, unnoticed, almost transparent in the whole being. And it was a twitch of the middle finger of the right hand.

A few other signs could also have been seen to an observant eye – the heartbeat had speeded up, making a few stops on the way, but acting like a train that slowly got back on the track. Also, the sickish blue color on the nails and lips slowly got washed away, leaving the pale skin that in the bloody sunset looked like if the man had burned during the tanning.

A few minutes later, like linked, to the twitching joined the pointing finger of the same hand. They danced for a moment in a joint of nerves, then quieted down. And it seemed that the soul had finally left the body.

Silence.

A moment later the eyes of a man opened slightly, shining with jelly-like glint and lack of recognition in the deep blackness of the pupil.

There was movement next to him, slow and non threatening. In his state, a civilian could probably have killed him with a spoon and a bit of goodwill, but he supposed if he startled the man too badly, he'd move and tear all those frail bits and pieces of flesh he'd tried so hard to heal and create on the missing places. The person next to the redhead was clad in a large cloak, a loose hood covering his features partially, save from the tips of longish blond hair.

The movement was the settling of a mask over whatever was under the hood. Once he made sure the mask was in place, he produced a canteen from somewhere under the cloak, showing it up so the man could see it rather than just edge it closer to him.

'Are you thirsty?' a man's voice asked, faintly muffled by the object covering his face.

Black eyes turned to him, starring at him with widened pupils, making the man look thoroughly drugged or just drunk with fear. He was neither.

The complete lack of understanding shook him and pushed him over the edge of subjective silence in which he tried to gain back the stolen knowledge. He heard the wind howling outside as the walls around them looked dark, brown and utterly familiar. He tasted sand.

And then, like if something had suddenly clicked in his head, he jumped up, making the defensive movement. But none of the puppets came as his chakra threads were broken and he had managed only to get up to fall down back holding tightly on his chest as the sudden sharp pain pierced through his torso. Now if that didn't count like a fail at the defense, he didn't know what did.

The man next to him jerked back at the fast movement, ready to jump at a safe distance in case an attack came, but not really unpredictably, the redhead fell to his knees again.  
Of course he would have, he was surprised he made it so far as his knees, considering he had just started to show signs of recovery less than a day ago. He made a gesture as if to reach for the redhead, then seemed to think better about it.

'Please don't move like that, I healed you as best as I could, but I'm no medic. If you strain the muscles, your wounds will tear.'

The voice explained calmly. He slowly reached for the redhead again, this time not drawing back.

'I'm going to help you back down, not hurt you, so please don't stab me.'

The red-haired man didn't react at first, still holding the one pose, seeming to be tightly shut around feeling what his nerves sent him. Then the quiet crack could be heard as he gritted his teeth and slowly rose his head up to look at the person in front of him. His gaze seemed to be clouded by pain, and yet still holding onto the strings of reality with no fear, only pride and hostility. Even if he was the one who was almost touching the ground with his forehead, his gaze showed clearly that from his point of view the one who was on his knees was the cloaked ninja.

'Don't touch me.' he said with a bit strained voice, sending a clear warning of cutting off both of the arms if at least the finger had dared to push at him. Who knew what the ninja could do – maybe even paralyze him or tie him up. Everything was possible, and he couldn't risk his freedom 'Who are you?'

There was a small pause, and when the voice came again, there was a faint ting of displeasure in it.

'The one who stitched the gaping hole in your chest.' The man said tightly. 'So if you won't have me help you, then at least don't be stupid to strain the muscles on your chest. Pushups are hardly what you should be doing now.'

The redhead kept on looking at him for a little longer, then, with a loud grunt he had pushed himself from his position back again to laying at his back. The moment his body was back in the horizontal pose he let out a strained moan, as the pain not only didn't go away, but rose up in the stinging that seemed to go right through him, getting both his chest and back. Oh yes, he was stabbed through, all right. But he could do things without help of strangers.

'I don't know you.' he said finally, when the breath had returned to him. His eyes were now once again aware of their surroundings, observing the man. He had never seen such mask. He was sure it looked similar to the one of ANBU, but it was not a known pattern. Also the cloak was a cover he didn't recognize. He slowly moved one of his hands up, wiping his mouth, only to frown in disgust as he saw that his paint was still on his face, and now, partially on his palm.

'Why… did you help me?'

'When I found you, you were still alive.' the man said, the previous displeasure still clear in the tone, though now it seemed less prominent. 'Do you want water or not?'

The man had looked at him again. It seemed that before every uttered sentence he either had to get a proper look or had to think through what he was going to say. The virtue, while being very helpful in diplomacy, seemed now to slow him down. Finally, the redhead rose one of his hand in an awaiting gesture.

'Yes. Please.' he said, still not trusting him so much to drink his water, but knowing himself that he was able to recognize most of the poisons in the liquid. Years of failed trusts and beliefs led him to this like a rope. Besides, he had throat dry like the sand under his body. He could swear it started growing in his mouth like flowers and plants.

He wasn't that surprised about the fact the man knew how to be polite. He was even less surprised about the fact he didn't seem to like that little additive to the sentence very much. He didn't say anything though, merely uncorking the canteen and giving it to the redhead, then reaching to help him up.

He touched him as little as possible, apparently being strong enough to hold him half upright with only one hand supporting his upper back, seeming to be much effort involved on his part.

This time the redhead didn't give him much of a glance, instead his attention was pulled to the canteen.

He was tempted to take a good long swing of it, but he knew it was like diving into the dark waters without knowing how deep the lake was. So at first he had wetted his lips. As after five seconds they didn't seem to be going numb or stinging, he finally took the pleasure of swallowing one sip of the water. And gods, it tasted good. There was no happy man under the sun who didn't taste water on the desert while knowing the taste of thirst.

Now even the touching of the man stopped being so intrusive. Seeing as he really had no ill intentions – or at least, for now – the redhead had let his muscles finally relax a bit. His chest throbbed as he took the second and third sip, but there was no helping to this. At the fourth gulp the canteen was back to its owner hands.

'What were you doing there?' he asked, once again observing the mask. It was a bit foxy, reminded him of old masks of secret forces that ninja villages had somewhere in the past. It was interesting that someone had courage to wear something of similar look. 'That passage is not something that's used every week.'

On the desert such frequency was quite a lot.

The blond man didn't answer right away, instead lowering him back to lay on what seemed to be a folded shirt. Not the redhead's own, as it had been hastily ripped and used to stop the worst of the hemorrhage and then discarded when the blonde finally had time to properly wrap the wounds up on bandages. It didn't smell like the masked man either.

'I saw vultures.' and he had. Not very surprising, really. He supposed the redhead had been lucky he'd been found by the birds before the ants. Those wouldn't be so easily discouraged if they had scented food. 'I went to see what had happened.'

The man had almost opened his mouth to protest at such laconic way of answering – but at the word 'vultures' his gaze sharpened, quieting his voice shut. It said more than he needed. So, his both companions were dead. The day seemed to be getting worse than it already was. He let the information go through his brain and locked it away. They were not close to him, but they were not bad people. It was a hurtful loss.

'I still don't know who are you and where are you heading.' he muttered quietly. It didn't seem they were observed, but the cloaked man had his reasons to remain mysterious and he couldn't take that away from him. His hand twitched as another jug of pain pushed through his chest with efficiency.

'If you have your reasons, I understand. As indebted, I thank you for saving my life.' he muttered, then glanced upwards, frowning lightly, but without annoyance. 'May I at least know your name? I want to know whom to search for when I'll want to show you my gratitude.'

'I'm looking for things of value.' the (for all appearances) blond man answered, sitting on his knees in a formal, yet relaxed way. 'The ruins seemed as good a place as any.'

He didn't answer the question about his name, but at the same time he also didn't seem to really notice he hadn't, instead, the hood moved slightly, revealing the slits for the eyes on the mask. Unlike most of the figures, these were open, instead of closed in the usual squint, but there wasn't enough light for whatever sort of eye color to show. If there were eyes under the mask at all, that is.

'I trust you won't be trying to move too soon?'

The man's frown seemed to deepen, but he broke the eye contact with looking to his side and observing the walls around them. The mask with opened eyes had put his senses to alert – if there was no need for one to have them it didn't have any. The ninja could be as well one of the eye genjutsu masters. The legends of the famous rinnegan were enough to make anyone feel uneasy at such sight.

But at the same time he gained a useful information. The man was a gold digger - if not adventurer to that. It could only mean he was either a man whose village had been destroyed and he was one of few survivors, or that he was a missing nin. The option of being a civilian had already been crossed out as the person already said that there was medical healing used. He didn't dare to ask about which one the man really was.

'Only if you will tell me where are we.' He muttered, finding an interesting spot on the wall and looking at it 'Otherwise, I will have to look myself.'

'I don't think this is any particular sort of place.' the man said as he studied the more guarded expression of the redhead. Apparently he was completely coherent. What a wonder, after so much blood loss.'We are in some sort of natural cave in the grounds. I brought you here because it seemed better than staying too close to where I found you. As for better landmarks…' a hand reached up, touching the man's chest more or less at the same height the redhead's wounds was, only the cloaked man seemed to be fingering something under the material of the bandages. 'There is an oasis about five hours into the western lands, I don't know what the local name for it might be, I just called it 'lucky me'. Sunagakure is about eight hours to the southeast.'

The redhead's hand had immediately shot up, catching the hand on his chest in a steely grip as the full attention was back to the masked face. The man was once again looking at him with deeply warrant stare, filled with confusion, and maybe a hint of fear, mixed with more or less strain. The pale skin paled one tone even more.

'What do you think you're doing?' he whispered, getting an even tighter hold on the hand over his wound 'This hurts.'

And it resembled so vividly of his nightmare he couldn't help but have a very unpleasant déjà vu. If anything, he didn't want anyone's fingers in his wounds. He breathed now quicker, letting the other information slip inside his head like droplets of water. Eight hours from Sunagakure? It sounded like if the man had walked away for at least two hours, which was quite a distance, considering that he had to carry his body and walk at the undisturbed pace. He counted the dots on his internal map and searched for the oasis. He found one, just on the way there. It wasn't 'lucky me' of any kind, even if any oasis could be named like that. It was Isis' Tear. Funny, he thought that sands had already covered it completely.

The hand immediately stopped what it was doing.

'…well, maybe you should have thought of that before trying to play 'who was half dead yesterday yet jumping around today'.' The masked man pointed, making a gesture with his chin towards the redhead's chest. Under his hand, blood was spreading sluggishly. 'You ripped something open.'

The man had looked at the spreading blood with a grimace that showed both displeasure and pain, then he immediately let go of the hand he was holding.

'I'm sorry.' he muttered quietly as he looked to the side, biting at his lower lip. He felt very uneasy already about the fact he had done something so careless, but the thing that he was at complete mercy of the stranger put him into pure embarrassment. That's not how the great Kazekage was supposed to be. And yet, that was the sad truth. It was good that the man didn't know who he was. Because then his status would be put into very deserved questioning.

If he didn't know better, the masked man would say this apology was actually meaningful. But of course, even if it had been, it was for his own well being. And the truth was, he should have warned him of what he was doing. He'd just been distracted, thinking what he could have done- He should have remembered the man was a Kage level ninja, half dead or not. His wrist throbbed lightly as a reminder, and he resisted the urge to rub at it.

The next few moment were spent in the silence barely interrupted by him removing bandages and carefully tearing away the pad he'd put on the wound. He hadn't really had anything at hand better than some standard disinfectant powder so he'd had to cover the wound as carefully as possible to prevent infection or flies from getting to it. He was pleased to see the skin didn't look abnormally red (or yellow, purple, green, blue), but it was still bleeding. From here, he had no idea if it was because superficial tissues had been damaged, or he'd ripped his best efforts at mending pierced lungs.

'Do you have blood in your lungs?' he asked bluntly, figuring the man would probably know better. Taste it, at least.

The redhead had moved quietly his tongue over his own teeth. No, he couldn't taste any blood. But he was ready to admit that he did, if only to have the wound covered. He couldn't look at it, he was never damaged so much at this area. It looked like if he was not only at losing position, but as if he was dying. Even if he felt that he was still in this life, the looks didn't make it be any more convincing.

'No.' he said, turning his gaze away 'Can you fix this?'

'I've been fixing it for the past days.' the man said, seemingly unaware of the redhead's discomfort as he dabbed the blood with the pad to be able to look at the split skin. 'It's just a disaster of a wound that doesn't want to close right. Your chakra is probably messed up after such a beating, so it's taking longer to heal.' He pressed his hand over the wound again, more carefully this time, the other joining it quickly as a light green glow enveloped the area.

'At least the one in your lungs seems to have closed all right… If I had thread, I wouldn't even worry with this.' He would have just stitched it close, then. He had briefly considered cauterizing the wound when he'd first brought the surprisingly still breathing redhead to this cave, but he'd been so weak he'd been afraid the shock would be what killed him. It seemed like too much a risk for a skin wound.

The black eyes looked at him for a long quiet moment. Then out of the blue, both of the healing hands were slapped away.

'What kind of man are you that you treat me with kids gloves? Do you think I can't take any pain?' he said finally, and made a hand seal. The chakra flashed at the brim of his fingers vividly, but then it died, leaving him with nothing. He was never good at it. Especially now, when his state was weakened. Black gaze once again had moved to the man, this time with pure demand shining in them, as he laid his hands over the torn skin.

'Burn it.' he rasped, frowning. The pain that vibrated from the opened skin on the thick desert air was more than maddening. He knew that he was able to bear it now, but if he was to be at mercy of that man and at risk of it opening again for another few days, he would go crazy. He couldn't lie here. He had a village to take care of. Who knew where Orochimaru and his followers went and what did they keep on planning.

'Cauterize it till there's only black skin and nothing else. And if you think I can't take it, then you're deeply mistaken.'

The cloaked man was glad for the mask, because it helped hide a not exactly endearing smile he directed at the redhead's antics. Fifteen years and not a single change, nothing he could point at, really.

More scars, and possibly more lines on his face, but the smeared paint was keeping those from being too noticeable. And not a fucking single white hair.

It wasn't fair. The blond knew that with his coloring he would naturally get them younger, one couldn't go against nature like that, but that this man didn't had a single one he could account for seemed somewhat unfair.  
'I simply kept it open in case the wound underneath opened again.' he said tactfully instead, mopping the blood when it started gathering at the sudden movement. When he was done, he simply used a hand seal to gather chakra to mimic the man's previous actions. 'If you are so sure you won't be splitting a lung open again…'

The redhead cracked a smile, looking at the glowing chakra on both of the hands of his so called medic.

'Of course I'm not sure.' he muttered. How could he be? He hadn't got the slightest idea how the man had sealed it shut and he himself said he was not good at it. So it was highly possible that it would spill open. After all, if he didn't feel anything now didn't mean he won't be feeling it later. 'But there's only one way to see how it will work, right?'

The wind blew, making him feel the surroundings even more. His smile quickly diminished at the pain, but instead of letting it drill through him, he moved both of his own hands over his shirt and split it open as much as he could.

'Do it!' he shouted in a command he used when he wanted the immediate obedience. If the man didn't, he was ready to steer his hands onto his chest himself.

'Ah yes, the local's gratitude.' the man said nicely enough, yet it was impossible to ignore the thick mocking undertone. And really, why not? He might split a lung open again, sure, but somehow he doubted it. If his royal Highness was already up to throw a tantrum, he sincerely doubted he'd die overnight. If he remembered to stay still, that is.

'Stuff of legends.'

And he pressed his fingers to the wide slash so close to the center of the redhead's chest.

The major spasm went through the body underneath him as the first reaction for pain was to get away from the thing causing it – and yet, the redhead managed to stay in place, only nailing his very short fingernails into the flesh of the cloaked man as he kept on holding onto him. At the first second he had only closed his eyes, gritting his lips so harshly it seemed that at least some teeth should break under the pressure. A moment later the dull moan started vibrating from his clenched voice chords as he did nothing to let it out loud.

'Not yet…' he groaned not unclenching his jaw, and on his own pushed the burning palms closed to the wounded body. He felt the blood trickling and he knew the man was doing it very shallowly. Maybe he wanted to give him a good roasting and tried to be careful, but he had none of it. He liked things done quick and if that meant they had to be done rough, it was fine.  
Even if it had to hurt like that.

Another spasm went through his body as the short nails bit to the blood. His eyes opened showing the very clean whites, clearly pointing at the border line of pain and consciousness. And when the redhead looked like if he was about to faint, the pale hands pushed at the masked man and threw him away.  
'Thanks.' He rasped through heavy breathing, slowly wiping the sweat from his eyebrow, then collapsing on the ground, boneless. 'Sorry.'

The dark-clad male caught himself against the opposite wall, staying in that position for a moment before gathering himself, but the redhead didn't give any signs of getting up anytime soon. He relaxed a bit at the sight of the man lying limp in the improvised pallet.  
The blond walked back next to the wounded man as he cradled his wrist, the limb he held shaking lightly. The thin stripes of blood were nothing to worry about, shallow as they were, but the strength behind the grasp shocked him. He could still move it, but it hurt a bit, and he was sure it would swell in the next few minutes. If he'd grabbed him at the joint between wrist and hand, he had the feeling his hand would have popped out of place like an uncorked bottle.  
'You know…' the mask stared down focusing for a moment on the faintly bloodied lips, but that was just a reaction to having them bitten that way- he didn't think the man had accidentally split a lung open.  
How was he going to explain anything to such a man?  
'…I think I liked you better when you were unconscious.'

The black stare had only shifted to look at him, as the man didn't do the slightest effort to do any movement, including shielding himself up from eventual backslash for what he did.  
'Then knock me out.' he muttered faintly, but his nose worked too quick to foreshadow sleep or lack of consciousness 'It's not like I can do anything if you tried to kill me, nameless stranger.'

'I haven't been feeding you water for the past four days just to kill you, little bird.' the man in the cloak said easily sliding down to cross-legged position next to the redhead, hands holding his chin up.

'Or did you want to die?'

The man's head cocked slightly towards the right in a questioning stand, the action a bit more animalistic and expressive because of the static features of the mask.

The redhead's breath had stopped right in the middle of an inhale, as his whole attention focused on the mask. He felt alerted at the strange cutesy nickname that was suddenly spelt at him, that could only indicate that if anything, the person who was standing near him found him as threatening as the mentioned 'little bird'. It felt insulting, but yet, the feeling of scare was much more overwhelming. Especially as the cloaked man did… that. That movement.  
Maybe he was too careless to trust him on staying as safe as he was for saving him. Maybe it was not a good natured person. Some people saved others only to take the happiness in watching them writhing in pain. For no reason.  
Who said that village-less ninjas had to be sane? Crazy people were banished exactly for being unsociable. Now the worst he could do was to anger the man, if he really was not the person he wanted to see.  
'I don't understand what you are talking about.' he muttered in a calm, hushed tone, trying to speak to him like to a child which needed soothing. He was not a very good father so it still didn't sound very kind. The Suna accent was not helping, but he tried. 'Why did you help me, then?'  
'I mean I fed you like a bird.' the man said, making a small gesture with his hands as if to illustrate the point. 'Tilted your head back, poured water, made sure it didn't go to your lungs and all of that.'  
He noticed the way the man was looking at him, rather than the tone. If anything, the situation seemed funny. Was Suna's majesty afraid of him? Not that he blamed him… he was pretty defenseless at this particular moment.  
'…Well, you were better…have you ever tried to feed a baby bird? It's disgusting, they only start looking cute after a few weeks, before that they look like horrible bits of stuff with a giant mouth.'  
The first time he had tried to feed the baby bird, it had snapped its beak open so wide and so suddenly he'd thought it had been trying to turn his head inside out. He had screamed and ran away for several minutes before daring to try again.

'You kept me alive for four days?' the redhead said, then closed his eyes like if he had just found a pencil he had lost and he was searching for many hours just right behind his ear. 'How rude of you to say those things.'

Then, with a grunt of pain, he turned to the side and caught a wall, only to start climbing up on his legs, using it as a support.  
'I have to go back to the Sunagakure.' he said as he had finally managed to get up on his knees. 'I'm not sorry that you saw me as a screeching bird, but I'm indebted with your gratitude and if you want to get something for that, come by sometime. You will know where to find me.'  
He was ready to dismiss everything to not start getting into the word battle with a stranger. He seemed to get weirder with every minute that passed by, telling stories about birds and comparing him to them. Not a moment will pass and he will start blaming him for the similarity and will try to snatch his throat to get peace of mind.

'I just said that you are more pleasant a thing to keep alive.' the man said, following his movement with the mask, his tone faintly amused. 'Comparatively speaking, that is.'  
He watched the man struggle for a moment, making a sort of annoyed huff before getting up and walking up to him. He was pleased to note he was at least half a head taller than the redhead.  
'We are on solid rocky cliff. If you insist on leaving, I'm going to have to take you down from here.' he pointed up, remaining close to the redhead, barely out of touching distance. 'And there are few ways I can do that without aggravating your wounds.'  
Slinging one of the man's arms over his shoulders was out of question; it would pull not only the just cauterized skin of his chest, but also the one on his lungs. Slinging him over one shoulder would result on him digging his shoulder in more or less the same area, so that only left two options available.  
He was nice enough to wait for the redhead to the same conclusion.  
The man looked at him for a moment in complete silence. Then suddenly his face has turned into the mask of abhor. With one move, he turned around and started walking toward the exit.  
'Thank you, but I will do it myself.' he muttered on his way 'My wound is not bleeding anymore and believe it or not, I'm skilled enough to climb down on my own.'  
He was the damned Kazekage after all. After a murder attempt, but the title was binding. Besides, he still couldn't agree on the light way the man put things into existence. Words like 'fun', 'lucky' and 'nice' were not things he used to describe such situations.

'I never said you weren't. I'm just implying you had a sword go _through_ a lung, not skimmed or grazed or poked. Clean through. And then had it healed by a non professional.'  
He followed him, maintaining the same distance.  
'Not that having you hacking up blood the first couple day wasn't entertaining, but I think that it would be a better idea to bear with it for six seconds instead of forcing yourself to climb down. And besides… You are still going to have to walk eight hours.'  
And the sun had gone down, but the man could barely keep himself upright.  
'I have the feeling you should save your strength.'  
'That's correct. You're right.' said the red-haired man as he finally walked up to the hole that could be named as the entrance. The light was gone, turned into the velvet covered with thousands of millions pearls and diamonds. The endless lake of treasures. 'I should save my strength.'  
He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the cold air. It smelled of home and it was the most right scent on the world. The cold temperature worked like the sweetest balm on his burned skin. The pretty moment.  
He let it pass. Then he looked down.

Now that was surely a high cliff. Nothing he wouldn't be able to handle, for sure. Not that he felt so freshened right now. With calm expression he looked down at himself. His naked torso looked still too horrible for his own tastes. He turned around to ask about the place of hiding of his own shirt, but when he saw the animalistic mask shining in the starlight, he decided against it. The cloaked figure looked now like a messenger of death itself, and he didn't want to check himself if he could win with gods. Maybe the man wasn't there at all, and he was now stuck in his own private hell of afterlife.  
He blinked and let the hand he used for support against the wall fall down to his thigh. From the position he was in, only the whites of his eyes could be seen on the light of the sky.

'But I don't trust you enough to give up myself willingly to the hands of someone like you.'  
And as carefully as he could, the redhead kneeled down and slowly moved his feet over the vertical wall. When he found the place he could stand on, he lowered himself down, losing the man from his sight.

There was silence from the top of the cliff.  
Of course he wouldn't trust him. It was in the man's nature to be stubborn and distrustful, and yet…

An ivory face with blue markings peeked over the edge  
'I feel like if I should stop you.' the man said, tone back to quiet thoughtfulness '…you are walking into a snake's nest."  
Despite the words, he didn't seem particularly inclined to move from where he was, or actively try to do anything to the man climbing down.

The redhead didn't look up. He was too busy trying to find the supportive crack on the wall for his hands. He hadn't climbed down enough to say he was doing it right and he was already feeling the strain on his burns. Gods damn it.  
'The desert snakes live in the sands.' he muttered when he finally found the crack on his left and lowered himself more 'You won't scare me like that, I know this place like my own hand.'  
Though he couldn't wear off the unpleasant similarity the word snake held to the man of long hair and tongue. That bastard was going to pay.  
'Do you?' the man shifted a little, a few strands of fair hair slipping in between the mask and the hood 'Then why hasn't anyone come search for you, yet?'

That made the man stop for a brief second. But after frowning, the redhead resumed on climbing down.  
'Maybe because I was assumed to have died in battle.' he answered simply. If he could, he'd shrug, but that gesture would have cost him a broken neck 'I'm a ninja, it's common for the likes of me to vaporize in a jutsu. Nobody cares what has happened to the body.'  
And the real answer moved him much more.  
He knew that if anything, he was the prime man of the country and the searching parties should have been started no longer than three hours after his disappearance. He made sure of that to inform his two most trusted ANBUs to make sure of it if he didn't come back before that time. When he was stabbed to death, he had taken the pill that slowed his body functions, including the blood circulation, so he could have hoped for being rescued before he had bled to death. But instead of waking up in his own room or hospital, he was eight hours away from Sunagakure and at mercy of some stranger who decided to help him out of unspoken whim (well, not anymore, he was now climbing down).  
Searching parties should have had found him on the second day the latest, eight hours was nothing for his ninjas on those deserts. And even if the man had hidden him, he should be able to see the traces of smoke coming up the sky in sign that the alerted state of the country has happened. Instead, when he had rose his head to look at the direction of his village, only the silent starry sky greeted him, and nothing more.  
Almost like if nothing was there.  
The whole village couldn't have died in the four days, right?

Dear gods, he hoped Orochimaru didn't make sure to make it so. He put the foot down on another crack and slipped, sliding down a few meters, while scrapping his hands on the pat surface. When his fingers had finally caught on another crack, he was missing a fingernail on his third finger of left hand.  
And it hurt like bitch, only not so much as his burned chest he had also wiped on the wall. He groaned in pain.  
Shit.

There was another huff, somewhat amplified by the mask, and then the masked man was next to him. Not being half dead had its perky advantages, like being able to control one's chakra and stick to surfaces easily.  
Without a word- and certainly not waiting for any cooperation- he grabbed the man by the hips and yanked him away from the rocky unevenness of the wall like he would have done a particularly stubborn cat.  
Keeping the man close wasn't a very advisable situation, if one had any options available, as the scene with trying to cauterize his wound had already stated rather clearly. Thinking it the best option, he kept the man's back to his chest, one arm sweeping to circle him around the legs to pin them, the other holding his lower back.

It was over two dozen meters free fall after that, and for a moment he was worried the redhead's considerable weight would upset his balance, but thankfully he aimed the correct amount of chakra to his legs. It wasn't particularly pleasant, but he was able to land the both of them on the ground, or the bit of it around the jagged and heat-split rocks allowed one to see.

The rocks were still unpleasantly heated, even more so than the cave.

'There, was that so terrible?'

He immediately planted the man on the burning rock, giving him the two feet of personal space he seemed to be intent on maintaining unless it was absolutely necessary.  
'You are too stubborn.' the masked man said in displeasure, smoothing the edges of the large cloak. 'All redheads seem to be.'  
There was silence after that, the man seeming content to stare at the wounded man, shaking his head at the sight of sand and tiny bits of quartz embedded on raw skin.

'I'll give you advice, not that I think you will follow it.' he said in the same displeased tone, as if the redhead had done something to personally offend him. If he had, it would be difficult to say what could it have been, because he had obviously known the wounded nin would get hurt trying to climb down the cliff.  
'I won't try to convince you to trust me either, I can already tell it's not going to work. Instead I will tell you to trust your natural lack of trust for everyone, and not go to Suna. But as you are going to go anyway…'  
There was a faint rustle as he looked inside his robe, producing the same shirt he had removed from the man he had murdered to have a proper coverage for the man's disappearance.

'You might know your lands, but you obviously don't know your people. They haven't looked for you, because you never went missing… There's someone with your face sitting in your chair, and please don't think your council didn't know it, because they are ninja too. And the only reason they haven't come finish the job is because they think you are dead already.'

The redhead looked at him, his eyes widening every passing second as the man talked. His help at the climbing was so sudden he had went completely stupid and let his actually move himself around like a rag doll, even if he still held in both of his hands a piece of rock he held onto when the man had simply scrapped him off the wall. He was about to ask what was so outstanding in the color of his hair that it was mentioned along with some other unknown redheads who had shared bad opinion with him, but the words died at his mouth at the upcoming sentences.

The man knew. The man knew who he was.

And more, he seemed to know much more about what was happening in his home than he himself. And it made so much sense it was terrifying. He was sure he hadn't given himself away; he still had the cheap make up on his face also. But about his people, he didn't know.  
'How…' he asked finally, observing him with intense gaze, trying to pierce through the foxy mask 'How do you… who are you?'

There was silence, from the dark figure for a few seconds, as the man thought over his words.  
'…I'm called Ono.' The voice said, the anger slipping from his voice as if it had never been there. 'And I know because you can't be in two places at the same time, not with the wounds you had and no clones to account for.' If he had been a clone or a genjutsu, either would have dispelled.  
'I was looking for Orochimaru and I found you, so I take he didn't like your answer to whatever he proposed.' The odd thing was that the Kazekage's council had apparently liked it enough to agree to have their kage replaced by an S ranked criminal.

'I'd think better about going back now. I'd think better about going back at all, Kazekage-sama.' The man said gravelly, turning around and slowly starting to walk away. 'Your only safety remains on the fact you don't need to kill a man who is already dead. Alive you are a threat to whatever they are planning.'

Hopefully that would be blunt enough, even for a redhead.

'Think about it… If you are still alive by then, I might have a proposition for you, should you wish to talk to me again.'

With a hand seal, the clone was gone. The cloak remained, being carried by the cool night wind for a couple meters before pooling on the edge of an utterly sun burnt bush.

The red-haired man stared in silence at the spot where the man was standing right a moment before and let the wind play with his hair as it blew, giving him chills. Nights on the desert were cold.  
_Ono-san_. So his name was Ono-san.

It didn't tell him anything, but was a shown respect he learned to appreciate. He straightened, letting the stones in his hands fall right to his sides and walked up to the shirt that was left in the sand, the shirt of unknown ninja. It was a bit too big in waist and too small in the arm width, showing him that it indeed wasn't his shirt. But it suited. He wore it, looking at the starry sky, seeing the Northern Star that pointed right at the direction of his village. The village that thought of him dead.  
After a moment, he looked down at the remaining cloak also. It flapped quietly on the wind, showing him that wind was careless, chilly and completely oblivious to everything. He closed the distance between himself and the object, and, after feeling the texture of it in his hands, he wore it like a second skin.  
'Daichi.' He muttered, as he had hidden his face in the black cowl. 'And my name is Daichi.'  
He smiled faintly, feeling the material fluttering around him and the hood covering his face. The cloth was too big and hid him completely. All the better.  
In silence, with his eyes only for one direction, the Suna's Fourth Kazekage started the long march toward his home.

#+#+#+#+#+#

The sun was lazily traveling up from its bed shed when the small dot of a cloaked figure had finally reached the brims of Suna. The sky shone in the vast tangelo color that had both greeted and parted every inhibitor of the desert. It didn't mean much, because every day was hot and the signs of a change were read from the air. But this time the message to the redhead was negatively clear. The journey that should have taken him eight hours took him ten – he was cold after the night and dehydrated after the long march. To add to that, his chest still hurt like hell and just didn't want to stop. He regretted burning his skin so deeply.  
The idea of staying under the care of someone else seemed to be now much more than tempting. But he didn't dare to think about that too much. It was not time for such wishes. Even if seeing the village intact and silent actually wounded him much more than the deep skin burns. The worst from it all was the jounin who slept awake on his guard, like if nothing on the earth had happened. Like if his life didn't mean anything to his people.  
'Is that to what I'm sacrificing myself for?' he whispered under his breath with a bitter expression, and quietly turned to the side. He was not going to enter the village from the front. He was aware of the cloaked man's ('Ono-san's' he refined himself) words, but he was not that stupid to dismiss all warnings that came with them. One was never careful enough after his own death.

The door which he opened, lied in the sands, invisible for anyone who didn't know they were there. He built them himself when nobody was looking, through many sleepless nights. Gods knew he had reasons to stay awake.  
After entering the seamless glass that looked like a bubble soap, he heard the door behind him closing under the mountain of earth and dust, while the lines of the same door appeared in front of him, proposing him an exit. It was an old teleporting jutsu. Some of the youngsters didn't remember it and called it even 'magic'. People were ignorant toward their heritage these days.  
He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, listening to his own breath. Everything is going to be all right. A lie, but nothing else was that much soothing as a positive thinking in complete silence.

When the moment was gone, he opened the door to the new room. The rich opened spaces greeted him with familiarity. Everything was on its destined place.  
Only it wasn't, because he had never left the bed undone like that. Or he had never had cracked glass in the photos. And certainly he had never broke his father's vase and left the porcelain lay on the floor to stain the Persian carpet.  
He felt the helplessness falling on him like a heavy, soaked curtain, as he knew he couldn't do anything to repair this. His things were not his anymore. Someone had lived here for him.  
And he had the good idea who it could be. His despair grew as he saw that his finest, whitest sheets were now laying squeezed out on the floor, but it was also stained. With semen.  
But before he could show his displeasure, he heard the quick steps coming toward the direction of his room. Without much of thinking, he grabbed the small decorative knife he had always kept behind the mirror – it held little to no value as a decoration as it was too unwieldy and too old to look good, and as a weapon it was as good as sharpened kunai.  
He never used it, because it belonged to his grandfather – the distant man who left the feeling of cruel coldness even at the brim of the brightest day, but now it was the only thing he could reach for from this spot not making it look suspicious. As quietly as he could he crept back behind the invisible door (thanks gods, he didn't close them after he entered the room. He rarely used them so he was not very careful with it). A few seconds later, through the tight crevice of the door-frame, he saw… himself.

And he was naked, obscurely naked, with his finest sheet tied around his waist like if it was a mere towel, with hair wet and dripping with such a waste of water he could barely breathe. A few steps away, the figure of his youngest son walked behind him, waddling a bit from the heaviness of the gourd that rarely left him since his birth. He felt his blood running cold at the sight.  
'Gaara, my child.' spoke 'Daichi' from the other side with strangely seductive tone – as inappropriate as his wear, if not worse (the redhead felt blood freezing in his veins as the gaze of that man turned toward Gaara, holding nothing but unfulfilled need, wondering for once to whom really the stains on the sheets belonged. It couldn't be his youngest, right?) 'You know I care about you, even if I don't show it too much… please, bring forth your gratitude as son and do me a favor.'  
The boy did nothing, but stood there, looking at him with mint cold glare, so full of hate and remorse, like always.  
The 'Daichi' didn't seem to be moved by that to the slightest.

'Please, help me conquer the Konoha in the nearest future.'  
Daichi felt his heart stopping its beat. Konoha? That… imitation of a doppelganger wanted to attack Konoha? Was this person completely crazy? But then he saw the yellow flash in his mirrored eyes and he knew he couldn't lie to himself anymore. Orochimaru just didn't go away. And if anyone was crazy enough to do such things, it was him.  
He moved his gaze at his youngest child, feeling that whatever happened now, he couldn't stop it, no matter how much he wanted it.  
'Gaara, my child.' started the man again. The kid twitched, the movement almost indistinguishable. But he knew the symptoms and ticks of his better than anyone. He was his supervisor for most of the time. 'Such a gifted person as you should know better than waste your talent-'  
'You are not my father.' sounded in with a heavy asthmatic voice, interrupting. The slick, seductive smile froze on the perfectly copied lips, showing, if anything, signs of shock. The redhead didn't do anything to change his position. 'I don't know who you are.'

'You-' started the double with completely different tone of voice, sounding this time so much more like the original owner 'If you will tell anyone-'  
'I will help you destroy Konoha.' Interrupted again. 'Daichi' once again stopped, looking at the red-haired kid with pleasant surprise. 'And then I will kill you for trying to lie to me and taking away everything I never had.'  
And he walked away. He had imagined it, for sure, but he could have sworn that the minty gaze that never looked to the sides searching for enemies, turned left and looked directly at him. He felt his knees going weak.  
But he couldn't let himself be overwhelmed by the situation as the second person had still been there, and if he had dared to breathe louder, his cover would be blown. For a moment he thought that the fake was also looking at him, but then his posture had turned away and shamelessly untied the sheets, letting the expensive object fall on the floor, uncovering his back completely. The moment later another person entered the room, much to his distaste it was a servant he had always been fond of. He was also quite young, the favorite child of the service.  
'Sajin, my child.' said his voice from the side of the room he could not see. It was much deeper now and much more seductive than he would have liked 'Come here and be my pleasure for the good beginning of this sacred day.'  
He saw the servant, little brown-haired boy move reluctantly.  
_'Run!'_ he wanted to shout at _him 'Run, or you will regret it!'_ but then the tray that was held in small hands fell on the floor and the boy has almost leapt toward the figure he could not see.  
'Kazekage-sama!' he heard spoken in childish, frail voice, so young, too young, and too excited for its own good 'Oh, Kazekage-sama!... I admired you from so long!...'  
He closed his eyes. Oh, dear lords.  
And when the long morning was over and both user and the used one took their own paths, he finally dared to close the door shut and let out the horrified sound.  
He could not speak of how much he dreaded what has happened and how he feared of what he still did not see.  
'The library.' He muttered in a croaky voice, turning to the door. 'Take me to the library.'

And he didn't waste his time anymore.

#+#+#+#+#+#  
The Moon shone coldly with its tiniest piece on the duke blue sky, ignoring him, mocking him, living away from everyone else's problems. He never felt much more alone than through the journey he took through the desert, going along with the whispering noises of scorpions and cooking atmosphere of the highest temperatures. This time it took him above twelve hours of non-stopping walk to get back to the place he went back from, both the cause being the heaviness of his provisional luggage filled with scrolls, clothes he held in his spare closet near the training grounds and everything he found obtainable and yet, valuable through the spying around his own house – and also the fact he lost the way when the sun went down and covered all traces that he could recognize in the daylight.  
He was lucky (ha, 'lucky me', he thought pitifully) that he had finally found the dry bush to which he said goodbye this morning. Instead he would have probably died wandering in the sands. His chest hurt like if he had nails stabbed through it, his hands were numb from carrying too much and his legs had blisters from walking under the worst temperature on the most hot sands. He looked at the lonely plant and spreaded his hands, letting his luggage fall down on the sand. A breath later he also fell down on his knees, uncovering his head from the cowl on the chilly night air. His road ended here. He had nowhere else to go.  
'Please' he muttered, rising his gaze toward the crevice on the cliff as there were not many other objects he could look at 'Please, Ono-san… I don't know what to do. I have nowhere to go. I'm alone. Help me.'  
And when nobody answered, he had bended on his fours and cried.


	2. Two: The bonfire

If they found each other again, it was by chance. Ono had followed the redhead into the village, or as close as he had been able to get when the man had simply disappeared into the ground. There was a teleportation seal there, he was willing to bet his mask on it, simply because he hadn't been able to find anything else that could explain it; as he sincerely doubted Sunanian architects would have been as innovative as to build their village right next to an unmarked patch of quicksand. He didn't bother with following, after that, getting inside the village would be too dangerous, and if he tried to follow the redhead…. Well, when you paid a seal's toll with the wrong sort of coin, it tended to backfire. Or occasionally turn you inside out.

He waited. It was a good thing he was better at genjutsu, but even so the heat was stifling and he couldn't move much to make sure he wouldn't alert anyone to the fact there was someone so close to the perimeters. For five hours, he sat and watched, supposing the man would come for the same exit, should he come out alive hole, but nothing at all happened, save for guard shift changing and him having to move away shortly when someone started looking a little too pointedly at his spot. He finally assumed the man hadn't made it out alive after all.

It was a pity, but he couldn't say he was surprised - Yondaime Kazekage was just too stubborn as a person, had always been. He wondered if he had simply waltzed into his office, demanding to have the hat returned to him, even after being warned against it. He wouldn't have been surprised if he had done just that, not at all.

Embittered, he'd picked himself up and quickly walked away, leaving behind Wind Country's capitol and the only speck of hope he'd had in what felt like too long, more of what he'd ever expected to deserve after all that had happened. He'd though - really, he had really thought, with the same sickish sort of fanaticism he used to find idiotic - that this surely was a sign. Surely karma had to be working for things to turn that way, wasn't that right? He had stopped then, wondering if maybe he was supposed to get in there. Maybe he was supposed to break into the city and search for its lost Kazekage and then whisk him away to safety… the pieces of him he could fit in his pocket after Orochimaru was through with him, that is.

He discarded the idea immediately. He had warned him. Maybe he should have tried harder, but it wasn't his fault the man hadn't wanted to listen, and he couldn't afford to lose his life for a wild card that could damage his hand as much as help him win the game. And Ono really hadn't been planning on going back to the Cliffside, either. He had been retreating to a further way post when he started wondering about having left any sort of clue to the fact he had been there. He knew he hadn't, he was sure of it, but then again, maybe he hadn't looked hard enough. And he had wasted too many years on trying to decipher a maddening puzzle just to have the table shaken from under his pieces just because he forgot to clean a little blood.

He had trailed back, telling himself over and over the Kazekage's loss meant nothing, that he had been fine before the man had appeared out of nowhere, so his disappearance wouldn't modify anything at all - when he saw him. The redhead had set camp on the floor, which either meant he was wounded again, too sore to try to climb to safer ground, or that he simply didn't care. But he had come back here, hadn't he? That meant… "I thought you were dead," he said, slowly walking closer, not bothering with being stealthy.

A trap…? his mind whispered suspiciously, refusing to believe on what he was seeing after all he had told himself for the past day. They tortured him and he spoke. He hadn't seen any tracks going from Suna to here, had he? But I he could conceal his own marks on the sand without being a Sunanin, a local… Trap. Ono stilled, well over a dozen feet away from the shorter man. "How did you get out?"

The still figure didn't answer, still hunching over the small iris of fire that strangely, didn't let out any smoke and glinted blue. Nothing, but the glinting of stars showed movement.

The dark figure stayed still for a moment, looking around for any sort of clue, but only really aware of the way his own heart beat erratically. "Kazekage-sama," he said, not taking any sort of steps towards the figure.

And there was still no response.

There was no way out of it, it seemed. This didn't just look like a trap, but reeked of it. He couldn't really see anything wrong with the scene, though, which only made it the more suspicious. Underneath the cloak he wore, his hands moved nervously. A moment later, he released a handful of kunais, to fall all around the prone figure. Better to make sure he wouldn't be stepping on anything with the sharp points on the wrong direction.

And still nothing had happened.

Ono's shoulder slumped, the figure slouching in an openly resigned expression. "Just so we are clear… I'm pretty sure this is a trap. And if you stab me, keep in mind I'm stabbing back." He moved closer, careful to step on the kunai he had just thrown, rather than the open ground. Chances were that if there were any sort of traps, they would be triggered by his weight, rather than a small kunai, but it was better than anything else.

After he came close enough to reach out for the hunching figure, the man suddenly rose and punched him straight in the face with the simplest, most normal punch one could use. 'Got your nose.' He muttered after that with the bitter expression. 'Now that you know the truth, don't kill me off like a mere genin.'

The mask, held. He hadn't used much force on it, but if it had been porcelain or some other sort of similar material, it would have likely cracked, at least lightly. It didn't feel like ceramic or clay, either. The fox features stayed unaltered. "What was that for?" the blonde asked somewhat annoyed, not moving the fist –or himself - away.

The man stilled and looked at him with a strangely calm expression. 'It's because you left me hanging.' He answered without opening his mouth. Then the ground suddenly spilt in two, sucking in the sand with a force 'Ninpo: Shinkirou no jutsu.' And the figure disappeared in the blast of sand as the ground started cracking like the melting ice on the river, falling down in itself, reaching everywhere.

He dove for the cliffs. He wasn't particularly trusting of them at the moment, same with anything else, but he did trust their solidity a bit more than the sands at the moment. Like, a 17% more so. "I did not do such a thing!" he pointed out, glaring at the widening hole as he held onto the side of the rocky hide with one hand and foot. "Unless your memory was affected by the heat, you will remember I picked you up and put you down on the floor with all the commiseration for your state one could have!" Like a princess, he thought to himself, grinning somewhat wildly beneath his mask. A fat one.

'You have no tact.' Answered the man without a sign of being anywhere, and yet, being clearly hearable 'Enjoy your ride.' And with that, all the cracks on the ground suddenly rose up, turning into the endless world of pins and needles, as the ground beneath shook and concentrated on one point, sucking up everything that lied close by, including the cliff.

Well, there went any sort of care for hiding any kind of evidence he might have accidentally overlooked. He wondered how natural this little earthquake from hell would look from someone else's' perspective. Locals, for example. He held onto his bit of rocky cliff for as long as the piece held, which wasn't very long at all, and then he concentrated on jumping from one stable surface to another. The problem with sinking and splitting stone structures was that that 'stable' was quite a relative definition.

"I'm not sure you should be wasting chakra like this in your state-" and now the stone bits where getting a little too small… He winced as an unpleasantly irregular piece of debris hit him in the head, the material of the cloak not helping at all on stopping the blunt of the force. Gathering chakra on his legs, he managed to propel himself enough to reach the once-shorter hilltop that had been directly to the side of their little cave. Unsurprisingly, it started cracking almost right away. "In fact, I think I should point out that altering the landscape to vent out your frustrations is not only unhealthy to your person, but a dead giveaway something happened here!"

'Really?' said the voice in a soft, ironical tone, that sounded like anything, but almost a hushed murmur. Then, suddenly his skin on the neck split open, letting the tiny, single drop of blood fall. Not a second later, and the pair of two black eyes stared at him from such a close up that it was strange they were not crossed. The redhead stood right in front of him, almost breathing right into his mask with an expression that seemed to be both smug and disappointed. Near the cracked skin the kunai appeared, held by the man loosely. The fire right behind them lit quietly without a trace of smoke, lighting the material of the sand colored tent in a bit brighter shade.

The smell of roasting meat wandered around faintly as the pieces of small animal cooked over the hearth, looking surreal on the background of starry sky and waxing crescent. The desert around them looked undisturbed and calm as ever. 'Genjutsu. Fifth level.' Breathed the man, looking at him without a moment of hesitation, like if the small distance didn't disturb him at the least 'You were caught before you knew it. I expected more of someone like you.' Then he tapped on the side of the mask with one finger, feeling the surface. 'I could have gotten this off like from a genin, but because I owe you a favor, I decided to be fair and only watch you struggling a bit.' Then, finally, the redhead turned away and walked back to the fire, watching the meat going from pink to red.

'You really seem to be taking me for an idiot if you think I could've made such a mess so close to the Suna.' The black gaze turned toward him in calm stare 'Care to sit with me?'

'I'm honored to hear you had such a high opinion of me, Kazekage-sama," the masked man said, a hint of amusement in his voice. Besides jerking lightly in response to the sudden, unwelcome nearness, he didn't move much. Yep, that was more like the bastard. It was a good thing paranoia brewed thick in his veins, after all. He waited until the kunai was at a safe distance that wouldn't risk his person, following the man to the makeshift camp and taking a seat directly across him. "…next time I find a redhead in danger, I'm leaving it to die." He announced, as if it were some sort of compliment on the dinner the man had prepared. He couldn't believe the man could be hungry after what had happened. It just showed that anything he had ever heard about Sunanins was completely true.

'Then next time keep on walking instead of stopping by to look at the unknown shapes on the ground. I assure you that there's a lot of truth in the sentence that curiosity killed the cat.' Said the man, only once flashing his gaze at him, as he took the piece that seemed to be almost burned to crisps and started gnawing on it both with excellent manners and appetite of a brute. From the lack of the napkin, he brushed his hands with the sand and then took another piece of meat. 'You said you had proposition for me.' He said between chewing on something that looked like a burned piece of leg 'I came prepared to hear you out.'

There was another pause of silence, maybe two or three minutes long with only the faint pops and cracks of the fire to interrupt it. He wondered where the hell the man had found actual wood to burn. "…I don't wish to sound ungrateful for your attention, but there is very little I can tell you as of right now." The man might be a prime candidate for his plans, but he wasn't about to put years of work into jeopardy because, on a whim, he had thought it to be a good idea. Karma or not. The taller man leaned back slightly, the hood of his cloak parting slightly and revealing one of the blue lined eye-holes, settling on the man's eyes.

"I have reasons to want to know what Orochimaru is doing, and why," he said carefully, as if he were a particularly greedy buyer who wasn't willing to put a single grain of gold more than absolutely necessary to reach the price. "I also think it would be a favor to the world if he stopped breathing, but I need to find out certain facts before being able to go through that. Those particular reasons, I can't share." It looked like if there would be more added to the man's words, but then he settled back in a slightly more relaxed posture. Rather than speak on his own, it would be better to answer questions, so he waited for them.

The man kept looking at him carefully, the rest of the meat forgotten in his right hand. That secretive tone was something he learned to read through his years of being the first man of the country, but that didn't mean he liked it. He leaned forward. 'Then what can you share?' he asked, feeling how the fire reached for his skin, charring it 'If you want me to help you in removing Orochimaru, then you can count on my help, as his being is disadvantaged for me.'

"I don't think we are in a state to be in any sort of threat to his person." He wasn't going to be as much a bastard as to point at the obvious fact the Kazekage had barely survived an encounter he had been ready for. And back then it had been just Orochimaru. Maybe his creepy little pet-slash-boy toy too. And now he had a whole army of Sunanin who, with his luck, would think the person in front of him was a fake, and a group of old greedy bastard with hats of power ready to vouch for it. "…I don't know why he came here, exactly, but I know he was interested in making deals with Suna. I gather what he proposed wasn't of your liking?"

'We're small village.' Was the curt answer as the redhead turned his gaze toward the fire and started scrapping the surface of burning ashes with a stick that didn't look like anything that could be found in the desert, and yet, it was there. For a moment, only thing that could be heard was the sound of burning wood and bones. His eyes rose and flashed with whites. 'I'm not a fool who tries to fly through the sea on wax and feathers on the sunny day.' He could add it was all about not having enough armature to attack anyone or that he desperately fought for good opinion as an ally and not enemy, so no wars that were privilege of Orochimaru were what he wanted to do. But Ono was a stranger and strangers didn't have to know secrets of diplomacy he led.

"But you have something Orochimaru wants, otherwise he wouldn't have come." And what could that be? Suna was a harsh land, if the locals barely could make live while growing up on it, he doubted they would live their comfortable lands up west to go live up to their eyebrows on pulverized, burning sand. Manpower? Suna certainly packed a punch as far as shinobi went, but their number where lacking to make them attractive enough… Perhaps their Bijuu?

The man had only glanced up at the blank mask and kept on playing with fire. The blueness changed the shape and wavered on the windless air. 'Now I don't have anything.' He said simply, avoiding the real answer. 'And whatever he wanted he's got it so there's no point of talking about it anymore.' The stick broke in the ashes.

The statement was met with yet more stillness and silence, the only sound disturbing it being the quiet cracks and pops of the burning wood as it fractured under the heat. Of course there were bloodline limits that the Snake Sennin would be interested with. If one considered his obsession with experimenting on those, it wouldn't be much of a stretch of imagination to assume he would ask for something like that, but his manmade village was overflowing with prime candidates for that without him having to move an inch. Practically all outcast and the few survivors from families with enhanced ninja abilities that hadn't been wiped out had flocked to wherever that snake had decided to make a nest of.

Yes, he could have come for that, but that didn't mean they needed it, which only left two possibilities: either they had something of interest that no one knew of and Orochimaru had somehow gotten a tip into it or he was interested in Suna's Bijuu. Orochimaru's involvement with Akatsuki provably pointed to the latter. What for, though? And why would Suna's council agree to give their greatest weapon just like that?

The man didn't enlighten him with any possible answers or even ideas about that, but only kept playing with fire and observing him from under the lashes (heavily coated with paint). 'I'm waiting.' He reminded politely and pursed his lips lightly to show his lack of content. He was patient, but that didn't mean he had to like waiting.

"Suna is as stingy with trade as ever," the masked man replied, caustic humor rising in his voice, shoulders rising a bit before lowering "Why should I offer you anything if you have nothing of value to give me in return?"

The man slowly turned his head around not changing his expression and watched the mask with his brows slowly going up in unimpressed facial expression. Inside he was under the strong impression of the man's words. And there he thought he played it wise, but it seemed that his interlocutor was not keen on falling into his posture. It seemed that his position (former, but the title still stood) didn't do anything to the man's behavior – more, it looked like if the man thought he could play around him like if he held the triumphant cards. Very unhappily he had to agree that his own position dropped down right now on the worldwide titles. He didn't like that.

He rose the stick with a brief blue fire glinting on the end of it. It seemed that the thing didn't spread through the stick even if the wood was thoroughly blackened on the place where the flames licked it. Then in one instance he put it under the nose of the man like a threatening knife. In some way it was something he could use to harm him. And with 'something' he didn't mean the fire. 'I thought you had a proposition for me.' He said in a smooth voice that was recognized as a bad hint only by his closest ones. 'I want to know if the buy is worth the price.'

"I do have a proposition for you, in the hypothetical case you have something I can find of use for myself." The man replied calmly, not moving an inch from his position despite the brightly glowing stick inches away from his face. Despite the seriousness of the topic, there faint trace of amusement in the taller man's voice remained, as if he were enjoying this sort of exchange. It had been a while since he had had a chance to speak with anyone, and the irony of having a conversation with the Yondaime Kazekage of all people wasn't lost to him. Dead men told no secrets after all. "If you won't say anything, I don't see why I should share any of my hard earned information with you with you."

The man kept observing him, still, waiting out the outcome, but alas, nothing changed. Thus, the tip of the stick was removed from man's face only to be licked off like from a candy stick, making the wood all dark and useless in the ashes again. The man was something to not step back from the blue flame. It was nothing in comparison to legendary black flames nobody saw for ages, but it was still considered one of the most harming things, especially when it touched the one's skin. That of course, didn't apply to his tongue, but he was good like that. For a moment he kept off staring at the man in a light frown, not knowing how to approach him;

it seemed to be like a lost cause though, he was in a bad position to give commands in the given moment. Finally, the stick was taken out of his mouth and tossed carelessly into the flames where it sparkled blue again. 'And if I said he wanted power.' He said, crossing his arms as he swung his body a little closer, rounding the man much alike like he would at the interrogation. He checked his body for hidden weak spots, but the cloak was a clever disguise. 'Money. People.' At the last sentence he has stopped and swung his arm close to the man's face, closing it in a fist, his silver mehndi shining in the dim lunar light like a flare. 'The power.' He mused and smiled, relaxing his grip and looking at the man expectantly '…would that satisfy you?'

"Not really." The mask titled slightly downwards, observing the design in the hand with interest. It looked like painstaking work and he wasn't jaded enough yet not to appreciate the beauty of the design - despite finding it somewhat feminine. He couldn't help wondering what it had been made with. The sheen to it was a range too deep into metal to be plain silver, but guessing the exact sort of 'ink' used would be hard to determine. "You would be lying about the money, and as for people and power, they would be the same for him." Well, maybe the money wouldn't be so much as a lie, if it were meant to buy things that would give him powers, but Orochimaru's interest was far from materialistic on obtaining the vile metal itself. 'And either way, none of those would be news for me."

Daichi's smile did not waver. Instead, he turned around, closing his eyes in amusement as he once again walked up to the fire brushing a fistful of sand right into it, making the flames burst into a big fire, hungry for earth around it, only to waver down into the fireplace again. The area around the fireplace shone like if it was sprinkled with powdered sugar. 'I'm not lying.' He said, looking at the result of his doing in mirth 'Orochimaru wants everything. Everything for greater goods.'

His gaze once again shifted to the cloaked man, observing him. The wind blew, making the sand dance and the white powder frush around like a dust, not making the fire move in one inch though. 'Then how about the news he is acting up on his plans.' He said and leaned forward, smiling at the man. It were not new things, all ninja world was brushed up by the fact that Orochimaru was trying to do 'something' but nobody knew what it was and why 'On his own, as a village leader.' It surely did not go as he wanted to, but hey, he was spilling the informations like a droplets of water, and on the desert - every drop counted.

"Still nothing I wouldn't be able to figure out myself," the man answered, not unkindly, but still far from sounding interested. With the hand out of his immediate sight, the mask titled back up again, fixing the man in his line of field. He wondered if the other hand was decorated as heavily as his right one. "Greedy or not, no one would try to kill and impersonate a Kage without very good reasons." He shrugged, deciding adding his two cents couldn't hurt, especially when everyone was well acquainted with those cents already. "He's been accepting enough missing nin to build a small army for the past years. Now this."

Daichi looked at him for another long moment, trying to decipher whether the man would make an additional move, something or anything that would allow him to attack or sneak out of the mine field. But nothing like that happened. It seemed that his psyche was not only trained at fear but at strength also. He didn't like it, but he had to admit that the 'Ono' he had in front of him was indeed someone who deserved attention of the highest institute. He let out a small laughter under his nose and turned his head to the side to watch the blue flames. 'You sure are observant one. Had you been spying on him by any means?' he said looking back at the blonde 'If you were then tell me, I will stop boring you with obvious details.'

"I know where his camp is," the man said softly, his back relaxing ever so slightly "His 'village', if you want to call it that. Of course the resentful bastard would love the be called Kage of something, even if it were a made up settlement of traitors and criminals…" a soft chuckle came from beneath the mask, short and corrosive in its bitterness. Completely directionless, given that Orochimaru wasn't there to be stung by it. "I would be there already if I hadn't found out he had left it to come here. And as we have established he wouldn't do something so risky as to try and replace an actual Kage, the only reason I'm here is to find out why." He didn't need the man. It would probably be even easier to get into Sound on his own, but if he did have him, and if the man hypothetical had as good reasons to want Orochimaru gone as much as he did…

This times the eyes of a redhead did not leave his mask until he had finished the sentence. The smile kept on being on his face, but he did not lightened up at the reference nor did it dim at it. Being a Kage meant as much as people you commanded and if one was a Kage to criminals it meant that it was a whole new dangerous world. Not very funny knowing where it's rage headed. He finally looked down to watch it at his red colored nails. The color was just to match his makeup. Maybe.

'I might know why.' He said, watching the light dance in the hardened chemistry 'But this is something I wouldn't trade for your sole trust.' He pursed his lips lightly and tossed yet another fistful of sand in the fire, brushing it into the dust. It was an entertainment ability only as the desert itself would have to burn for thousands of years to turn into flour and everything was bound to become sand anyway. 'Let me accompany you.' He said as he looked back at the man with a still face. 'To the Hidden Village of Sound.'

For several heartbeats the other didn't answer, nothing but the creaks of fire and the scurrying of a near-by lizard interrupting. When he broke it, it was to ask a single question. "What are your intentions?"

'Aren't they obvious?' was the answer. 'I want my life back.' And if anything, that wasn't a lie for sure. He had been a fugitive only by three days (not even full three ones) and he could barely stand it, even if it didn't show. He snorted under his nose, laughing at the said statement. 'Unbelievable, isn't it.'

"But Orochimaru is in Suna. Unless he plans to come back to Sound?" Which didn't make sense given how comfy he was making himself on the man's chair.

The redhead had once again turned his head toward the masked man. 'Whatever makes you think he is going to stay there?' he murmured, still slightly amused 'His ambitions are greater than that.' The fire sizzled quietly in the night. The lizard hid itself under the rock.

The cloaked shoulders shook briefly, even if the man made no outright sound to express his humor. "I don't suppose you'd be generous enough to share what such plans amount to?"

'Oh no.' said the redhead and took out another stick from the bonfire, watching the flames dancing on it, still and blinking. 'What kind of Kazekage would I be if I trusted a stranger with such secret information.'

"A dead one," the man replied just as amused as before. "But I guess you are not really dead yet, are you?" He didn't need or want an answer to the question, the topic making him uneasy with all its correlated results and significances. "What do you intend to do once in Sound? I have a mission of my own, and I can't have you interfere on it."

'I just want to take a walk.' Said the redhead and tossed the wood once again into the bonfire. The moon gave off a cold light even in the warmth of the fire 'Sound destination seems to be just as good as any. And it's boring to walk alone.' Considering the length of the journey – a long one especially.

The mask finally moved away, openly shifting to look at the side, seeing nothing but endless flat dunes of sand and sand and more sand. It seemed impossible to think the world might be made of anything but that. "I have a mission," the man said after a while, without turning to look at the redhead. "The way it ends won't make that snake happy, but I don't know long it will be until then." It could take more than just a week or two. It might take more than just a simple month.

'It's not like I have anything interesting to do.' Said the man, glancing at the way the man moved, registering everything – his turn, his side, his sound of cloak brushing against itself. And then, in one swift movement, the silvery hand shot up at the mask, fully willing to take it off.

The hand was caught at the wrist by the long gloved fingers of a somewhat slender hand. The other met the redhead at the chest, open palmed. It wasn't by any means a gentle tap, but the damage was lessened by the position - if he had aimed his fingers to kill, or even used a fist, the fragile skin that had been cauterized the previous day would have split open, not to mention the internal damage that might have caused.

The redhead immediately curled inward, gritting his teeth in pain. It was easy to forget he was wounded now that he had applied dulling potions to it at his brief staying at home. Which didn't mean that his nerves didn't register the damage. He shot up his other hand, grabbing the one on his chest and holding it there, preventing it from moving any further. At the same time he did nothing to stop his other one from trying to reach for the mask even in hold. 'Asshole.' He muttered in a bit too cheery tone, heaving his chest that now disturbed, once again hurt at every breath.

"Now, is that the sort language for Suna's esteemed Kazekage to use?" there was a slight strain in the voice, not really having expected to have to need this much effort to keep the man still when he had been half dead not two days ago. He didn't want to think about what it would be like if he had been at his usual levels of strength. "Is this how Sunanin show their appreciation? I don't think I like it." Instead of trying to move the hand, he grabbed at it harder to keep it in place and shifted slightly to the side. Leaning slightly forward, he dipped his head so the hood of the cloak his most of the mask, except for the inexpressive lower half.

"Clones aren't the sturdiest of things, Kazekage-sama," he whispered softly, sounding vaguely suggestive merely because of the nearness and the drop of pitch on his voice. "I'd be more careful with this one if I were you. If it gets dispelled, you are on your own." The hand held against his chest curled, sharpened nails digging faintly on the clothed front before relaxing, just a reminder that there could have been much more damage than the one that he had bothered to inflict.

The man winced at the scrapping, still not losing his smile, even if now it was a strained one. So, this was a clone as well. He was not suspecting it, but at the same time he was not very surprised that much. It took him a mere three seconds to look up his own position and everything he could and couldn't see in it – and then, he tossed both holds aside, jumping back at the length where man's hand couldn't reach him at usual length. 'Don't talk like if you knew how a Kage is supposed to act.' He said with a smug smile as he smoothened the material on his chest. The damage was there, but it was minor and it was not worth using chakra on healing it when the deeper cut was still fresh and pulsing. 'After all, you're the rude one with hiding away your face from me.'

The man didn't try to follow, merely sat back up in practically the same position as before, as if the altercate hadn't happened at all. The only way to tell it had happened at all was that now the cloak was slightly rumpled up, revealing dark, somewhat loose pants (it would be suicide to wear tight fitting clothes in the middle of the desert) and a kunai holder strapped to the man's tight. None of them were particular enough to help identify even something as basic as to where the man came from. "I don't see what the sudden interest on my face might be stemming from, but if it eases your delicate sensibilities, I'm the same with everyone else."

'Is that so.' Said the man once again walking up to the fire, not a hint of hinder in his voice. He was not very happy that he managed to get a peek undercover and that it still gave him nothing, but what could he do? At least he tried… and if this will go well, he will have a chance to try again in the future. Which still wasn't established yet. 'That explains so much about everything.' He said in a slight mockery tone, leaning down to hush at the fire with his breath. The flame immediately dimmed, making the night grow on their back with coldness and darkness. The shadows seemed to be twice as long now too. 'So, what do you say about companionship?'

"I could use someone of your abilities," the man said, his tone so flat it robbed the sentence of any sort of compliment. "But I can't have you compromise my orders. Are you willing to be patient?"

The words made the smile on the man's face shun slowly into the unwelcomed darkness along with the light that seemed to slowly die down. Daichi didn't pay any attention to it though. Compromise? Patience? Of course! But only of anyone deserved it and as for now it was still a game of the tag in which he was still standing on the thin ice, not knowing what sky hanged above him and where to run to. He proped his face in one hand, hiding his lips completely and looking at the man in something close to thoughtfulness, even if his lips hid away the cocky smile.

'You wound me so, you talk like someone I used to know ages ago.' He muttered, briefly reminding himself of the dull tone from somewhere, someone, unimportant here and now as it was of the deep past. 'Seriously, what a brattish tone.' He kept his pose for awhile longer, letting the shadows overwhelm them both, until the most visible things of him were the whites of his eyes and his silver mehndi. 'Being patient is what being a leader takes.' He said smoothly, finally removing his hand from his lips. His teeth flashed. 'Deal.'

And then, the fire died.


	3. Three: The mountain

'Do you have everything you need?'

'I have everything I can have.'

'It will be a long trip. We will need to get money to gear you up for the north - money for everything, actually. Sound is full of criminals and nothing there comes cheap.' A small, ironic chuckle 'I hope you don't mind some mercenary work, Kazekage-sama.'

The snort came out of the darkness, followed by a flash of the teeth from the darkened figure.

'I'm not afraid of work.' he said 'If you don't know, a Kazekage is someone who comes from plain people in the village.'

'Oh?' the inquiry sounded curious, but didn't seem to need following, because the man continued without waiting for an answer. 'We need to hide your identity. Can you impersonate ninja from other villages?'

'Can a bird fly?' was the amused answer. It seemed that with every sentence the man grew more and more humored 'That's a basic knowledge.'

'Some birds die without flying.' the clone mused, equally amused. 'What sort of summon do you have?'

'Some kind of summons.' was the answer, and the man shifted 'Do I have to tell you how my ninjutsu works? Next thing you will ask will be my strongest jutsu and weaknesses of it.'

'I'm just asking because if you share them, you will have to break the contract.' That meant to never be able to use them again.

The redhead blinked, but it couldn't be visible in the darkness.

'There were two personas who used to use the summons I use.' He muttered. 'Both are equally lost from the world of living.' Or, at least he thought so. The Third was lost for such a long period of time that he was probably assassinated already and Sasori was missing even longer than that. 'I'm not breaking my contracts.'

'And did anybody see you when you were in Suna?'

Daichi stopped, wondering for a moment about the honest answer, but then dismissed it. Gaara was never with him but he was also not against him at such point as he had only cared and loved himself (what an irony). It was not worth mentioning. 'Nobody but you.'

'Very well.'

Standing up, the clone fixed Daichi with the blank stare of the mask for a few seconds, the folds of his cloak billowing lightly on the cold wind. 'If you stand in my way, I will make you wish Orochimaru had killed you.' There was no actual threat in the words, no killing instinct of any kind. It somehow only made the world all the more chilling.

Daichi had only looked back at the figure, careful to not make any unneeded moves. So he didn't move at all.

'Likewise.'

A warm exchange it was.

The taller male didn't answer right away, but when he spoke there was traces of a smile on the tone. 'Well, now that's settled... let's get going, Hiiro-san.'  
'...as you wish, Hitan-san.' said Daichi, getting up from his sitting position as well. A few moments later the whole baggage was packed neatly and pulled into a sack that seemed to hold a place for less than half what was packed in there, and yet, still looked quite loose. The nickname was indeed a pulling pun but he didn't mind. 'Lead the way.'

They marched. First, it was to find shelter from the scorching heat that already started building up at only four in the morning. Despite the redhead's insistence to keep going until they found some place with actual water, the masked nin told them he had enough for both of them until they could get some more in a brackish oasis. Against popular belief, there were quite a few of them lurking around in the desert. Only a small handful of them were actually apt for human consumption, and the blond had them carefully marked in his map of the region.

They weren't all the ones there were, or at least not all the ones the lord of these lands knew of, but they did manage a good, healthy path where the man wouldn't die of dehydration getting from one to the other. The clone has decided to travel only at night regardless of where his original might have gone or how far ahead of them he might be. In the long run it was probably for the best, because it was hard to keep up at constant rhythm under the sizzling sun for anyone but the locals, and regardless of the Kazekage's stamina, the man had received a chest wound that had, regardless of somehow having miraculously avoided his heart, bled as profusely as such did. Not a good time to exert himself.

Because when the man had said he wanted to take the long route? He had meant it. It took four days just to get out of Suna. Instead of going straight West -the shortest course route as the hidden Sound village seemed to be located somewhere close to Fire country- the clone decided to go up North until the temperature during daytime finally descended to something bearable and the shape of the Keikoku mountain's was visible. According to the clone, they would go through the bordering smaller countries right outside Wind and Fire country where criminals tended to hide and the pay was high due low shinobi concentration and sheer desperation to get rid of the source of danger.

The redhead agreed quietly to everything. Of course he knew better paths, of course it would be better to travel through the Fire country even if it consisted of much higher risk as Orochimaru was planning to show up there, of course he knew better oases with much fresher water that lied hidden to untrained eye. But he didn't try to quarrel as long as his needs were fulfilled – and as for now, they were. He quietly disposed of his luggage at every stop, hiding in the sands things that were needed but things he could avoid of having. In the end of their journey, when his chest finally told him that it was enough of frying on the thick hot air, they finally saw the mountains from affair.

Which meant much more troubles and much more stamina to be used. Quietly, he disposed of the rest of what he could leave, burying it under the palm near the last oasis and carried on the needed things in one packet, which he could hold on public or under the cloak. About that, the stranger didn't ask for the cloak to be given back, so he didn't try to remind him of it.

For the days they walked in the night through immeasurable expanses of thin sand with only the occasional predator for company and food and even less occasional oasis; the clone had seemed content to move in the light run and stop at the first signs of sunrise - sometimes even before that if the redhead warned him there would be no place to shelter themselves from the sun. With the change of climate and terrain, their traveling habits shifted as well. It seemed like if once the loose sand gave way to tightly packed (and often cracked) plates of earth with the occasional stringy bush growing from it, the man's step gained new energy and he wordlessly started adding speed to his steps. One would think that when the terrain became irregular and started requiring actual climbing it would decrease again, but unlike in the desert, the taller man apparently had no issues threading through sharp edged mountains and teetering cliffs, not even when they started gaining height and the air became thinner and clouds started defaulting vision.

Daichi looked at his leader who sat near the water, still and transparent as mirage. At his third attempt at taking off the mask of the mysterious man he noticed that it was indeed a clone and not a spoof warning, and thus, left it alone. There were so many things he needed his strength for. Like, for example, now. The mountains required a strong body and muscles that would lead him through quickly, as his original strength would not hold for much longer than half of a day. Spending the night in the mountains where weather changed like woman's moods was more dangerous than a night in the open with an enemy.

After a few hours, the redhead decided that a chamois would be good. So, when they neared the first uprisings of the stony ground, he henged himself into a red-haired mountain goat and skipped right forward through the loose grounds and sharp edges.

The only comment he made on regards of the man changing shapes to accommodate travel was a small mention of how all of the sudden he thought him a much more agreeable traveling companion and reminding him to watch his step as the rock they were standing on was stationary on rather loose earth. The fact this last warning came after he had to dive after the Kazekage-goat after he lost step and nearly pummeled several stores worth of mountain and down to a gentle bed of sharp rocks probably earned him the kick he got in retaliation, which luckily for the both of them he dodged.

'Smartass, aren't you.'s the goat as he finally got them up from the to-be-trap.

'I wouldn't know. I'm not the one who nearly became tenderized mountain Bambi, if that's what you are asking.'

The animal let out a sound that seemed to be the one of displeasure and then henged back to his original form. In this one, it showed how much stress such a thing took out of the man as he didn't expect any of that from the start. Quickly, he let out a breath and took a swing out of the bottle to wash down the paleness.

'If you know this area so much, then help me, I'm wounded.' He said as he hid the bottle in the pack again, only to toss it at the clone and change into the red eagle. A moment later, the animal sat at his arm, looking at him as sharply as a bird of such kind only could.

'Of course now you are wounded.' The man said amiably, no trace of sarcasm in his voice 'Back in the desert you wanted to race on 40ºC in the shadow – if we found a shadow, but now your wounds hurt.' The mask stared at the large bird impassively. '…you know, I heard a funny story about rising crows and what they'd do to your eyes…'

Whatever he meant to say next was lost in a shrug and making a gesture for the large creature to change arms. 'Whatever. Just be careful with those talons, Polly.'

In the answer, the redhead jabbed him straight on the ear.

'I'm not Polly.' Squawked the bird, flying up for a moment, only to sit down on the same spot 'And you are lucky you wear cloak over your ears.'

Without having to wait for the older man to find his footing, the clone immediately hastened their step, the loose, heavy clothing he wore not seeming to hinder him any more than then strong changing wind or the nervous way the henge'd ninja shifted on his arm. It didn't take long to get past a small settlement, but other than stopping to get provisions, the masked man didn't waste any time. He only stopped when it got too dark to go any further, shrugging the poofed up bird from his arm and into a nearby branch.

'You might want to change your bandages now, it's going to get cold tonight.'

The bird had only gawked at him with owlish expression, not commenting what he heard. There was no other way but to agree to the cold, he felt it in all his (now empty) bones, but he was already cold from being upon the heights and the idea of getting undressed now was more than unpleasant. Thus, he waited long enough for the man to go away to search for the wood to change back. In his human form he felt even colder than before.

Getting out of the country was always a bad idea when he didn't have his safety scarf. And back then he didn't even think that they'd have to travel to the north, so all the clothes he took were rather light to his personal tastes.

Once he undressed the air bit at his body greedily, but also numbed all of the possible pain he could have felt. Nevertheless, the air he breathed out was white and that was not how a normal air was supposed to look like. He changed quickly, tossing the used up bandages to the ground where he started the desert blue fire. It gave heat, but it was too small and if he was to choose to sleep by it, he'd die from frost by the morning. It was good for the given moment.

Searching in his pack, he managed to find his old sweaterand a decorative scarf he thought of using for hiding and wore both. Now it was a bit better. He also wore a second shirt and socks to his opened boots. Now it looked a bit strange in fashion, but he cared very little for it. After that, he covered himself with a cloak so much he looked like a black stone on the ground and started slowly eating one of the more fattening resources. He had to gain energy.

When the clone returned it was with a handful of decent wood to start a fire, even if the amount made unlikely the idea it would stay through the night. At the sight of the bundled redhead, the clone made a small choked noise and shook it's head lightly.

'It's not even that cold.' He commented as he started working in the real fire.

'But it will be.' Responded the redhead, quite unrecognizably as the cloak tarnished all his words now. It was better to save heat while it was still not too cold to have it when it was bad instead of trying to warm up without possibility to do it. Then he'd probably have to sleep the closest to the fire and that would rise the danger of burning in it as he couldn't keep his guard even in his dreams.

At the worst possibility he'd have to ask the clone to stay close to him and help him preserve the heat, and as much as he got rid of the teenage shame of cuddling close with foreign bodies of other people for greater measures he wasn't very fond of the idea.

'Not really. If it snows, it will get warmer in here.' The snow would isolate them enough - it wasn't season for storms yet, so other than the odd sharp change of climate, the wind wasn't that strong yet. 'It'll warm up as soon as we get down here. My original should be waiting just a few hours from here, so we'll keep going as soon as I get enough light. We'll rest there.'

The redhead had only nodded and huddled himself in the cloak even tighter. Every drop of temperature felt quite painful on his body now and he didn't want to waste energy on talking. Just because of that, he moved along with his own fire to the original camp and stayed unmoving and close to it.

Through the following hours, the clone just watched him wordlessly, or maybe it had its eyes closed and the mask just happened to be titled in the redhead's direction. Possible, but it failed to explain why the weight of his stare fell so heavily on the redhead. It did eventually start snowing, light, puffy flakes of it slowly dropping to the ground with barely the lightest of breezes to upset their slow descent. Even so, the redhead only seemed to be able to nod off for a few minutes before jerking awake to huddle even more irritably into his bundle of clothes. Around the fourth time, he finally had enough.

'Are all of Sunanin as depressing in cold weather, or are just special that way, Kazekage-sama?' he asked, dusting his cloak off to shake off the few specks of snow clinging to it. Being the closest one to the entrance of the niche they were resting it meant he was the one to absorb most of whatever escaped the roof-like protection of the irregular rock above them. Moving the redhead's luggage, he sat down next to the redhead, body touching from the line of their arms all the way to their legs. Despite the fact it now had the security the redhead wouldn't attack him, the clone was unusually tense against the redhead's body, but if it was personal dislike of the man, found the situation uncomfortable or anything else, he didn't mention it. 'Try to rest. You can rest a bit on the next settlement, but we can't get you a doctor until we get further away from Wind country.'

The redhead had only opened his eyes and looked to the side, not answering for awhile. The change of the body temperature just brought more shivering, even if it was a pleasant change. He didn't know why was the man so absorbed with him – or at least, absorbed enough to actually notice he didn't fall asleep yet, but it felt somehow nice he tried to… hmm. Actually, he wasn't sure what he was trying to do. Was it supposed to heat him up from that position? Maybe from where the man came from it was like that, but he surely didn't know any of it.

'Thank you.' He muttered slowly and looked back to the fire, but the position disturbed him, so soon enough he looked back at the clone. '…can you tell me what are you exactly trying to do?'

'Heat you up with as little nudity involved as possible?'

The redhead blinked, then frowned. 'What are you, a prude from Stone Country?' he muttered and, despite the air being much more crispy than before, he took the cloak off his own head 'That's not how you do it. Come here.' And with that he simply rose his hands as for a hug, unfolding even more of his cloak.

The clone's hand were immediately raised in a 'stop' gesture, muscles stiffening in such a way it was clear any further movements from the redhead would result in him jumping away. 'Yeah, let's- let's not.' He said, voice still calmed, though there was a new edge to it. 'It's not cold enough for me to consider that yet.'

The redhead looked at him in silence, a bit disappointed – it was a good source of heat and his priorities took a huge turn now it got colder – but after a moment he decided that it was better this way. It was not cold enough for him to risk his throat for heat. So instead, he quickly wore up the cloak and got back to his previous position. '…I knew it. You're from Stone Country.' He muttered quietly and stilled.

The clone regarded him in silence before crossing arms in front of his chest. 'If my delicate sensibilities upset you, your highness, you are free to turn into something small and cuddly enough I'll consider letting you sit on my lap.'

The redhead only snorted, not moving an inch from his position – and for sure, not changing into anything. 'I still have my dignity.' He muttered, a bit amused by the idea. If he were to change into something would it be a… dog or a snake? He couldn't change into animals he never got hold of and on the desert the things that looked 'small and cuddly' to him were scorpions. At least one of his summons did. But that was probably not what his comrade meant.

'And I still like my personal space devoid of touchy-feely Sunanin.' the clone replied tartly 'So this is as cuddly as we are getting, take it or leave it..'

Daichi snorted again, this time more amused, letting out a few snickers before stilling. 'A touchy-feely Sunanin', that was good. Sounded like a paradox on itself and it was even funnier because it was all about what he did. To him it held no personal meaning, but obviously, not all ninjas were trained enough in losing the shame around the preserving the heat. 'Be quiet, I'm sleeping.' He muttered and closed his eyes again, trying to nod off in what he was given. It wasn't much, but he was not going to let go of such offer.

The clone made a derisive noise in the back of his throat, but didn't comment otherwise. It took a long while for him to relax a bit, but he finally managed, even if he remained unnaturally still. During one of the shivering fests the redheads seemed to happily go into, the masked man let out a sight and after a moment or two, his body temperature seemed to increase considerably. Being a clone, it didn't really carry much as far as body heat went, so that meant it was using it's chakra to force the increase.

And the redhead took it with gratitude, even if he still didn't sleep much that night. When the morning came – and it was hardly a morning, the night was still in the full bloom – his fingers felt like pieces of ice along with almost whole of his body without only one side and one of his ears. It seemed he had to lean on lightly onto the source of heat. He felt almost guilty for borrowing so much from the stranger, but then, he didn't ask for it but was given - almost like a present. And it was rude to not acknowledge those, so he dismissed his guilt away.

'Where are we heading to now?...' he asked, trying to regain how much chakra he had left in his body and what kind of disguise he had to take from now on. The deserted lands were behind them and he couldn't be seen by any people now and there was no doubt that they'd meet a lot of them beginning from now.

'My original should be in a small village just an hour or so from now.' the clone answered, refraining from mentioning it would be a lot less if they were going at a better speed. The redhead was looking again almost as pale as he had the first days after he had closed the gap on his chest. The change of temperature seemed to have tired him a lot more than expected. 'This is too far from Sunakagure for people to come just because, so we can stay for a day.' Any further would be risking it, as unlikely wasn't the same as impossible. Same with getting medical attention- Anyone with a wound such as the redhead's would be something noticeable enough to be mentioned.

'An hour or so.' Said Daichi to himself quietly and thought about it. The best way to huddle the heat had things that were small and their fat had covered most of their bodies. But then, most of such things was just as slow to preserve this heat even better. Not to mention that he knew only one animal he could change into like that and it surely wasn't a mountain animal (heck, it wasn't even a land animal). Cursing a bit under his breath he muttered a chant and henged, this time into a much younger version of himself with albino characteristics (which meant white hair and pink eyes). Kids were better at holding the heat and also were much quicker.

The problem was that also everything was much bigger and heavier. He wore his bag again and grimaced. He hated being a kid again. But at least henge remade the clothes to the right size and occasion. 'Let's go then, nii-chan.' He muttered in a dead serious facial expression, only showing whom he was to him if asked. He was not going to use this suffix again, maybe only under the bad circumstances.

There was another choked noise from beneath the mask - this time obviously muffled laughter. It took the clone a few tries and some coughing to get his voice back to normal, but at least when he spoke he sounded as normal as ever. 'Okay. All right.' Taking a deep breath, he quickly grabbed the kid's luggage to his back, the ex-redhead under one arm and quickly set to making up for the lost time being mindful of the other's condition. 'Any particular reason to look like if you are peppermint flavored?' he asked, carefully adjusting the heavy brat version of the Kazekage in a way that wouldn't upset is chest.

'My hair is the most characteristic thing I have.' Said the bratty version of Kazekage, obviously upset by the way he was held in general, not only because of accidental brushing of his chest 'If people don't remember who I am they call me 'that redhead'. The most obvious would be to change it into something just as vibrant to make it remembered differently…' he sighed and finally grabbed the clone on his own, turning to more favorable position than facing the ground – and that meant holding onto the cloak like a koala bear '…have you ever held a kid?'

'… Peppermint flavored?' the clone answered after an awkward pause. "Can't say I have.' And while the tone wasn't aggressive, it was curt enough to show it wouldn't be a topic he was interested in pursuing. After that the clone adjusted the smaller body again, but if anything, it only served to make patent that before he might have been doing it wrong out of lack of knowledge, but now it was out of plain awkwardness.

It took roughly half an hour for them to reach the settlement the clone had mentioned. It was considerably bigger than the maybe one dozen small huts they had passed on the mountains, nothing compared to an actual ninja village, but still large enough to have a decent market and two inns. They found the clone's original sitting in the dining area with an older man sporting a remarkably unfitting glass eye and thick brown beard who seemed to be unable to talk in anything but gruff grunts and glared at the clone and brat as if they had personally offended him when the formed deposited the latter in front of them. The masked man stared at the small boy, amusement clear in his voice.

'I was wondering what was taking so long.' The clone shrugged lightly before dispelling, the mask quickly falling down to regard the 'boy' silently. A moment later, he stood up. 'You must be tired. I'll show you your room.' The other man in the table let out a displeased snort that didn't seem to affect his interlocutor in any way. 'I will be back in about an hour.'

The white-haired boy had only nodded to him as he gathered his own belongings that the clone had dropped. Then, just to keep up with appearance, he gave the big man a long curious stare, focusing especially on his beard and glass eye, like only little kids could do (not that he was interested). Then he simply followed.

For awhile he kept wondering if the clone wasn't hindered in anyway, because it was indeed strange and had a bit late reactions (like calling his hair 'peppermint' for example… which was a flavor, not a color), but as he saw the original, he lost the hope at least for the appearance to be done right. The clone looked exactly like the original owner, minus the obvious transparency the thing showed. He looked around a bit, trying to stay close to the strange masked man. The village, as he heard from his messengers was rather poor and lived under the raw climate, like it always was with mountains and their sides. However, after the night in the cold cave nothing felt better than a bed made of hay and sheets.

He sat near it, watching the man walk away as he sorted his own pack on the ground, ready to wait for his comeback. He wondered if the man would be in any way different from the clone or any more eager to answer the questions he might've asked, but the passing days took their toll on him and after a few minutes he fell asleep, barely remembering about keeping up the appearance. Thankfully, his stamina was on the right level and henge did not dispel.

The taller man returned maybe fifteen minutes later sans his luggage (which was moved to his new room, given as the redhead now had the one he had been occupying) but with an extra heavy fur blanket and a standard first aid kit. He stopped at the sight of the curled up form in bed, standing unmoving by the door for several long minutes, silent and still like a shadow, until the faint sound of conversation somewhere in the next room seemed to break his paralysis. The man seemed at loss of what to do for a few moments after that, one hand reaching to rub at the back of his neck, then slowly approaching the bed with obvious intention of just dropping the blanket on top of the figure and let the man rest.

He seemed to thankfully realize what a stupid idea that would be right before actually going through the motions-

Hypothetical picture: Figure A approaches sleeping ninja who doesn't wake up due exhaustion even though Fig. A is right next to it. Fig. A being the kind-hearted soul he is drops a noticeably heavy blanket over unaware, sleeping ninja. Then Fig. A becomes a pincushion for just about any poisoned kunai and senbon sleeping unaware ninja happens to be carried about before said ninja realizes what he is doing.

'I brought you a blanket and some new first aid supplies.' he said instead, taking several steps back to clear that delicate area that hard-wired shinobi generally liked to keep devoid of living creatures when their guards were low.

That made the figure on the bed jump and open its eyes immediately. It was a tick that was gained through living as a ninja if he wanted to stay alive. Carefully, he hid back the poisoned needle back into his sleeve, making sure to not show he was trying to use it.

'Thank you.' He muttered and sat up, reaching out for the blanket, only to notice that he was still in his childish form. After a quick glance at the closed door, he finally disposed of the henge, feeling all the strict muscles of his insides finally relax once he didn't have to suck up his chakra anymore.

'Thank you.' He said again, this time in a normal, mature voice and took away the blanket and the first aid. At the first glance he noticed it was indeed a very first aided aid and that he was not going to have much use of it, but he was not going to refuse any fresh bandages or bacteria killer. He quietly opened the upper part of the cloak and poured peroxide on already blackened burn. It stung, showing that it was still a living wound, but he didn't bat an eye on that. What worried him more was still the strange crunching sound that showed up every couple of breaths he took. He waited for the stinging to fade away, and then slowly corked the bottle. 'Had an hour passed already?' he asked, his voice devoid of tone.

'No.' the man answered as he took back the bottle and passed the sterile packets of gauze. 'I thought you might want to tell me if you need anything as far as supplies go. We can get better gear when we get to one of the main villages in Bear country, but you'll probably need something warmer to wear.' the slight mocking tone was almost, almost unnoticeable. 'And maybe something to eat. The owner's wife has rabbit stew and entrails for dinner. The entrails are about as appetizing as they sound.' While he spoke he kept an eye on the careful way the older man raised his arms while wrapping the bandages around his torso. Normally it wasn't very easy to do such a thing by oneself, but the slight strain showed it was more than just disconformities from the position.

'You still need to see a doctor.' It wasn't a question, but it still was statement that would very much like to be rebutted by a 'Oh, no, I'm perfectly fine, just need to sleep on it and will be as good as new'. That said, it also didn't sound particularly hopeful.

'You're aware of that to see a med I'd have to show up in my true form.' Said the redhead, closing all zips and buttons he needed to dress up fully again 'And this is extremely dangerous, given that I'm not supposed to be here, much less wounded like that and alive.' Which, by far, meant that the further they were from the Wind country the better it was. He didn't feel very bad and given how he was holding everything he had on himself was probably nothing but the consequences of obtaining a big wound; he didn't feel inclined to hurry.

He yawned, moving his hand absent mindedly over the fur. It had a nice, sharp feel to his fingers. He definitely had to have something better to wear. But as a kid, he was in a bad situation to try out shirts and pants. 'Entrails sound interesting. Is the bearded man anyone living nearby?'

The man shook his head lightly, though that was directed at the choice of food rather than the comment about the doctor. 'He's just the local security, man's living his retirement from . I was getting filled in on which are the best rewards around.' The man was probably disappointed he'd be traveling with a kid and that meant he'd have to be more careful. 'If we take our time, we should be fine by the time we get there, but it will take a couple weeks.' He paused a moment before adding 'It will take three days to get to Rain if we hurry.' The question was if the man was in any state to either hurry there or manage to wait for longer.

The redhead looked at him for a long quiet moment. So, the bearded man was a local security. That meant they could meet him anytime so he had to hold his henge around everywhere. Made a lot of things pretty difficult in an instant. Like buying clothes for example. He smiled, a bit put off.

'Three days? We'd better rest well then.' He said, but instead of laying down, he got up and henged into a small kid again. This time his eyes seemed to be even more magenta pink than before. A good nap made one gather his strengths.

'So, what about those entrails?' he asked again, this time in much more childish voice. He also sneaked a look or two at the cloak and the mask. Exactly the same copy. It was somewhat disappointing – but then, it meant the man was quite powerful. When one put a thought to a detail it meant he could afford such thinking. Daichi couldn't help but become more and more curious who kept hiding under that mask. With every power up the danger grew but so did possibilities. Ah, the sweet pain of the mystery.

The taller man shuddered again, for all appearances finding the mere name of the meal as unappetizing as the thing itself.

'I figured you'd rather get them on your own instead of suspecting me of poisoning you.' he said bluntly, though not entirely devoid of humor. 'I will get you a more suitable cloak now, then go back to finish talking with Kaname-san, and we'll leave tomorrow morning.' It's not like if their size difference was that big, if the man seemed so comfortable with his old cloak around without modifying it. He'd just get it a bit shorter so he wouldn't trail it all over the mud. 'Just go ask in the kitchen for some food and go back to rest, you'll need it.'

Daichi nodded to that and took the new cloak with gratitude. It seemed he was going to be indebted with a lot toward the strange man. Not that anything valued more than life (so far; because some things did value more, just like existence of the village and so on). Then he stepped down to the kitchen, finding it only because of the smell – even if everyone were eating everywhere, his ninja sense made him identify it without a mistake.

Especially as the meal had a strong smell today. He asked for a portion and as he was given one without a question, he sniffed it up, wondering how much of meat was actually there and who had to die to fill the remaining questionable parts. Hoping it wasn't a human he slowly ate it, trying to remind of a little kid (which meant messy and much more loud than he'd normally eat; as some transvestite giggled at him it meant he did actually a good job. It could also mean he screwed it up totally, but he tried to think optimistic).

He noticed that the room wasn't the biggest but it was indeed warm enough for him to feel comfortable; he was glad it had ended this way. He was glad he could get into the relation with the unknown man so far. Who knew at what place he'd end up if it was someone else. Not that it didn't have flaws. Not that it was out of logical thinking. But he just wanted to feel grateful, and above all –peaceful toward the world. After swallowing the last spoon of his meal he left the plate where he sat and came back to his room. This time he didn't let go of a henge and additionally covered his face with a scarf. He was too tired to think about any other means of protection. Dreams took him away almost immediately.

He was getting closer and closer to Sound village. It was all that counted.


	4. Four: The snowstorm

The window didn't open and the door didn't creak. Those were rookie mistakes and the man was far from one.

The small amount of chakra he used to teleport was measured and well treated so it wouldn't disturb the sleeping form, but even if he had, he doubted it would have made much difference. The child-like form resting in bed was obviously exhausted. It had been obvious from the way he walked, not quite seeming to get the right footing on the loose snow, and from the unnecessarily heavy coat he had gotten. Even now the coat was resting on top of the numerous blankets, as if the thick bear fur hadn't been enough for him.

The pale skin didn't trick him. The small body, the innocent visage- it was a lie. The man was from the south, only southern hated cold so visibly. Unlike the masked man, the boy wasn't from here, and the more he thought about it, the less he thought him to be a boy.

The question now was _who he was, really?_ Why was he hiding himself, and why did he travel with the masked man?

As a youth, these questions would have been, and perhaps they still were as he was still wondering about them. He had aged well, however, and years had taught him that questions often had unwanted answers to them. And the best way to avoid them was to remove them altogether. Silently, he raised his sword-

'Stop.'

Cold steel against his throat. He thought of swinging back and around, using the momentum to cut the man in half, muscles tensing and preparing for the blow. The blade moved higher and he felt warm drops starting to fall from the shallow cut.

Or maybe not.

'Is this really necessary?' the man asked politely, sounding out of place and vaguely amused. 'We leave in the morning. I would hate the village to be deprived of your services when we do.'

'I would not.' sounded quietly, but still childishly in the darkness. A second later, something light and glinting flew right between both of the men, hitting the wood on the other side of the room. Nothing could be seen, but the faint smell of the wood moldering polluted the air.

'Damn!' hissed from the bed again. 'I forgot – can you raise a hand? I can't exactly tell who is my enemy in this darkness now and I don't want to miss again.'

'Don't be like that.' the older looking man said, making a vague attempt to be pacifying. 'And don't do that again. I don't know what's it like in your little corner, but in this constructions are made of wood. That's flammable.'

Ono moved his hand away, the blade seeming to disappear below the wide sleeves, and then he was patting the smoking cedar with care not to leave any embers, the embedded kunai pulled beneath the cloak not to be seen again.

'That's no kid.' the older man said irritably, the hand on his sword tense as he prepared to parry any other attacks. 'And you are no traveler.'

'And we have no interest in your village.' the masked man said sedately. 'We are just passing by.'

The tone irritated him. The lack of care, of the man seeing why the hell he was doing this-

'No one here knows how to fight.' He spat out through gritted teeth, his single eye gleaming angrily. 'If someone comes after you-'

'It would be better for us not to have been here, then.' the taller man said, not losing a beat. '…wouldn't you say so?"='

'Unless he'd spill he saw us.' said the kid, relaxing a bit on the bed. His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness – he was not used to live in places where there were no sources of vivid light, like sun or stars 'Then it's possible that whoever may come might treat villagers just as he would like to treat us.'

He looked up at both of men. He rarely spoke about this, but he liked to leave no mess behind him.

'It's safer to kill him.'

Every muscle in the white-haired man's body seemed to lock, cold sweat breaking on his upper lip and beneath his thick beard. Didn't sound like if they were small fry, either.

'Probably.' The taller man conceded after a pause 'But I'd think that if Sousuke-san has been in the area this long, his sudden disappearance or murder would make it much more suspicious.'

'That's true.' muttered the kid, and then another light shape flew by the man's face. This time, when it hit the wood, the splinters hissed and melted. 'It's your fault you tried to get involved, Sousuke-san. What a mess, what to do?'

Third senbon flew, barely missing his cheek now. The wood behind them puffed up like a marshmallow and vanished like a foam.

'I hate such problematic guests.'

The man's nostrils flared, not a trace of fear in his eye. Only anger. The nerve of the brat.

'I won't be paying for any of this.' Ono said, moving to remove the senbon before they left a fist-sized hole in the wall. 'And given you don't have much money now so I will have to give you a loan, I'd advise you to stop.'

That as if he had any interest in getting clothes his size and medical attention once they were far enough for it.

'Leave my village.' Sousuke said, his tone low and dangerous. 'You were never here to begin with.'

'In the morning.' The cloaked man said.

'Now.'

'Aww, you're no fun, big bro!' squealed the kid suddenly, then jumped off the bed to ran up to retrieve the remaining senbon before it could be taken away from him 'You know I had only started the ninja training and that I can't pay for myself yet!'

He turned around then, sucking on the venom that the sharp needle held. It tasted far from candy – if anything, he felt like if his tongue was about to fall off in any given moment –but it didn't happen. Instead, his mouth had only foamed a bit.

Goddamn, he was getting good at making his poisons more and more vicious.

The clear needle flew through the air and hit the opposite wall again, this time not doing a thing to the wooden surface.

'No. It's my birthday tomorrow and I want souvenirs.' he said 'And I want to spend this day with my big bro unbothered, because it's a very special day. Or I can have your head instead and claim you as my first ninja kill.'

This time the senbon flew closer to the man's face, scrapping the skin till the first blood.

'Give up, brat.'

The taller man had apparently decided that risking his life if only for the dubious honor of smearing the fake kid's smile all over the walls was well worth his possible death, because he reached back for his sword to strike as the albino brat produced from his person far more needles than it should have been possible. And then the man wearing the fox mask was in between.

'Stop that you two.' he said again, real irritation creeping in his voice this time. When no one broke out of paralysis to try to stab or behead him, he took a deep breath. 'Sousuke-san, we will leave as soon as there is enough light for it. I can assure you we are not being chased and no one in this village will be put in danger by our presence here a few more hours.'

Maybe it was because the man sounded as sincere as any men wearing a mask that even obscured its eyes could. Maybe it was that they both seemed to think his elimination was a quite possible and possibly preferred outcome. Or maybe it was that compared with the brat, the man was as likeable as any character could get, but the case was that the massive man wanted to believe them. If they really were in danger of being, they wouldn't have stopped in such a little settlement, would they?

'Fine.' he gritted, barely keeping himself from downright spitting the word. 'But don't think you can idle. As soon as there's light, don't even stop for breakfast, just get out of here.'

'Keh.' Said the kid, looking to the side, obviously in sarcastic manner. Alas, he didn't say anything else. Flaming such a situation when it went down to the righteous agreement would be stupidity – not that he stopped thinking that wiping the witness out of the face of the earth would be bad, no. They just weren't in the good position to leave dead bodies behind. At least not that soon.

Not to say that his chest started burning again. He shouldn't have swallowed that poison after all.

'You'd better pay me off in toys and candies, big bro.' he muttered and sat down on the bed, covering himself in the fur. 'Because that guy really doesn't make me feel as good alive as good he would do if he was dead!'

'You better pay me off in gold like you are supposed to, little brat.' the masked man said almost sweetly as he reassumed a more relaxed position. 'Or I'll sell your organs in the black market. I supposed some of them can still get me enough money to cover your expanses.'

Thinking the duo to be composed of lunatic with a mask and lunatic without enough melamine, Sousuke finally sheathed his sword and walked out of the room. Thoughtfully utilizing the door this time. He wouldn't be sleeping the rest of the night. Some guarding duty would have to go one to make sure no one tried to get a little too smart.

Silence remained.

'…are you okay?" Ono asked once he was sure they were alone, turning to look at the smaller form huddled in bed. Daichi had immediately gritted his teeth, making his childish features age at least ten years without letting go of the henge. He quickly covered his form with the blankets and fur, trying to regain the lost warmth he let go of while trying to act like if the frost didn't bite at his naked skin. He wasn't sure of his dislike of cold trait wasn't discovered already but it was better to play the role till the end and not give out what's still not given.

'Not a couple of days away from my home and someone tried to assassinate me, as I thought, perfect cover for the reason I don't get yet.' he muttered, letting go of the stressful breath he felt 'You tell me if I should feel okay and I will tell you if I accept it.'

With that, he looked up at the masked face, frowning and most of all – curious. The cover of the face was emotionless, still and unmoving, and yet, he could swore that something had passed through it to the assassin. Could he be a hypnotic ninja? With whom he was spending his damned time from all possible missing nins? Because that man couldn't be a righteous vagabond, he was now sure of it.

He wanted to see if he wasn't in bigger danger than with curious 'Sousuke-sans' already.

He pinched one of the clear senbons in his hands, but decided against it. He was too small and the room was too dark, he could actually hurt the man before he would make the mask fall off. _Not for long, though_ – he thought quietly – _Now, that the childish form is busted, something else must hide me from world. _But what could it be, he had no idea. Form of a child was the most economic when it came to warmth and fat. He bit his lip lightly.

Lady luck was really a capricious woman.

'The man is just trying to keep his people safe.' Ono said, turning away from the weird pink gaze and giving a look at the destroyed walls. He wondered If maybe they could cover the holes with something so they wouldn't have to pay for repairs.

Wood-melting poison, huh. Sunanians were as fucked up as ever.

'Maybe if you hadn't been baiting him for an excuse to murder you, he would have had let us stay for breakfast.'

'EXCUSE me.' said the man-child on the bed, dramatically extending his hand toward his own chest, only to hide it a moment later. The cold outside the covers suddenly got much more noticeable 'If you hadn't noticed, he was the first one to try to kill ME. And I tend to kill the people who want to kill me, it can get bad later once they come back stronger with revenge on mind.'

Because revenge had been the cause of fall of many leaders and even countries. He whizzed out an air, making the strand of white hair lift for a second, only to leave him frowning at the masked man.

'Are you even a ninja, for real?'

'I don't know, am I?' the man asked, irony thick in his voice. 'The one who just *had* to come back home to water the plants or whatever certainly wasn't me. You are lucky I left a clone, and it wasn't even to get you back. I was sure you had been found and killed.'

The eyebrows of the not-redhead-right-now rose as high as high his forehead allowed it.

'You have been tracing me?' he muttered in disbelief. His eyes shifted, searching in vanity for anything that could tell him that it was a joke – too bad masks didn't change with emotions – then he slowly closed his eyes and landed on the bed with a moan of irritation.

'I can't believe it.' he muttered, wincing lightly at the way his chest rang at him with the thud on the bed 'I've been traced and I haven't noticed that. Who are you, the Third Kazekage-sama?'

'Of course I traced you- as far as to the city, at least.' The masked man snorted, shrugging as if the matter was unimportant. 'Then you used that weird entrance and given I don't particularly enjoy the idea of willingly entering a trap just because I have no idea what the code is, I waited for you. Under the sun. But you sure took your sweet time to get out. So I assumed out had been found and left.'

At the question the lump on bed made an odd noise, like if he had started to laugh and it got caught on a snort midway.

'Yes, wouldn't you love that?'

The pair of black eyes was again looking at him, observing in silence. A moment later, the small shoe flew right in front of the masked face, hitting the wall with a light thud.

'But my dear companion.' said the voice, this time sounding adequate to the voice of a grown up and surely, not being far from the original voice of the owner 'How could I miss the show that had been displayed before me after I entered the strongroom of Agra bah? The gold, the mysteries of science, the… peep show on my own self. Who would miss that?'

The second shoe flew through the room, only a futile demonstration of frustration, not meant to do any more harm or even been aimed at the other man.

'I don't pity you that you decided to fry on your own on the desert in that cloak.' he muttered, much more serious this time 'Though I'm still grateful for what have you done for me so far. Don't make me forget that I owe you.'

Ono looked after both shoes before fixing the mask again on the smaller figure, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

'In that cloak'?' he snorted finally. 'Only crazy people –like everyone who lives in your country- would go around in sleeveless shirts and skirts under sun strong enough to cook eggs with the shell still on. Normal people who appreciate their skin try to protect it.'

The comment was still confrontational, but at least the topic had been changed to a more neutral one. Daichi had only smiled at him.

'So you're not even from Wind country. Tell me more.'

Bingo.

'Your ability to state the obvious astounds.' the man said in the most sarcastic of manners, taking out one of the poisoned senbon from under his sleeves and inspecting it 'But since you seem so inclined to go over things we have already established, knock yourself off: I belong to the male gender, I'm in possession of all my limbs so far, I met you by accident during a mission, you owe me money-'

'And you have beautiful voice. Let me see if it fits your face.' said the child as innocently as innocently a grown up man could sound and took Ono's mask off.

Sandaime Kazekage stared back evenly at him with the wolf-like yellow eyes that Daichi knew so well.

Not like the last time his student had seen him- this version was considerably younger than the late twenties of the man who had disappeared over a dozen years ago. Not because he had looked much different than the image beneath the mask, because despite the passing years the Third's visage had barely altered from its porcelain-like perfection, but the make up gave it away.

The eye-shadow covering the lowered lids was a dark green, not the dusty red he'd favored before going missing. His hair was slightly shorter as well, the spikes of his bangs more suited to the hairstyle of a younger man. Surely not someone who by now should have been pushing fifty.

'Is this what you wanted to see?' the Third asked in Ono's voice, his tone neutral.

The redhead's eyes widened only a bit – but enough for the change to be noticeable. His lower lip quivered in unspoken words, never to be mentioned.

What?...

For a half, no, a quarter of a second he hesitated, wondering if that really, really could be the man he have been searching for in the five great countries and because of whom he had almost spun the war tribes into movement again, but then…

He looked at the hair and saw – no, not wrinkles, because Sunnins didn't have wrinkles until late sixties – the length didn't match. It was not the image of the Third, no matter how he wanted to look at it. The Third… had never been so young, so boylike before. Not in any of his earliest memories.

His slightly blenched skin lost another shade of pink for favor of grey.

'That joke is in terrible taste.' he muttered quietly as he carefully, very carefully laid the mask on the stranger's face. 'But don't think that something like that would stop me.'

'Roger that, your highness.' the man said politely, despite the sarcastic words. 'Next time I'm digging one of these in your eye.' he said, holding the poisoned senbon so it was level with the kid's left eye, where a flicker of the wrist could send it through. With another, it disappeared back under his sleeve.

'…or not. Maybe next time you try that, you will like what you see underneath even less.'

Without waiting for an answer or giving any other warnings, he turned around and walked away, the wooden door of the room closing quietly behind him and leaving the redhead alone again in the small, cold room with nothing but his furs for company.

'You're an awful brother.' muttered the redhead in silence. 'But I accept your challenge.'

Because, how any normal human could ignore such temptation?

With one deeper breath Daichi lied down and slept hardly without dreams for the most of the remaining night.

#+#+#+#+#+#

In the end, not only did they have to leave at the crack of dawn without any sort of food besides what little Ono had on himself from before the Kazekage had arrived, which was mostly dry food which wasn't exactly what anyone would have preferred under such circumstances.

At normal ones, the simple solution would have been to stop and hunt something to eat. Only that as soon as they set foot out, it was snowing.

Not pretty, sparkly, puffy snowflakes either, oh no. It was that funny state when nature managed to get connected to its surrounding and reached the perfect equilibrium - solid enough to cluster into heavier globs that followed the winds' direction when they pleased and ignored it altogether when landing on someone's eye would be funny and liquid enough to be absorbed by just any fabric unlucky enough to be under its direct attack.

So not only all the good animals with self-preserving instincts were in their burrows, curled close to each other in warmth, and hell… Even if they had managed to find anything edible, the current very wet state of the universe would have prevented them from making anything that would allow them to roast it. And raw meat, while edible, was far from something that could be easily ingested.

So… marching it was. With horrible weather and low spirits and soaked-through cloaks that felt thrice as heavy as they actually were.

And slow, slow, slow, **slow** Sunanin.

'If you faint I'm hollowing you out and sleeping in your carcass.'

'Don't count on it, my head itself costs a whole country, imagine the price for the rest.' said the redhead, cloaked no better than some scary monster on Halloween. When the time to set out came, he resigned from the state of the child, that was first. Of course, at first he thought of setting out like one, to not leave any suspicions behind, and he truly did his best to stick to this plan. He had dispelled the henge, dressed up in all clothes he had, including the expensive greatcoat he held only for exceptional occasions and even stole one of the covers from the bed – despite how it might have looked. He didn't have mittens and good shoes for such weather, so he had to save himself with additional material and bandages. Assumed he had long rolls of those on himself, the quilt held on his hands pretty well.

So then he had wore everything he had and henged into a small kid, having serious problems acting like one, when under the illusion he was just a replica of clothes-like snowman. He tried nevertheless and he put enough effort in it to even break out a sweat – and that was a bad move, because once they were finally out, the water froze to his skin, not making it any easier for him, even if all that could be visible from under his cover were eyes.

Pretty soon he had also lost the henge. He needed the chakra for warming and he couldn't waste it on jutsus. So even if the village wasn't very far away, he changed leaving heavier steps and bigger footprints. At least they were covered with the snowstorm that rounded them and followed them with the wind, traitorous and as merciless. Daichi didn't have strength to be thankful for the quickly diminishing traces. All he could think about was that he couldn't lose the sight of the black hooded person going in front of him (because how would he be able to find a way out of this without him?) and that it was really, really cold.

'Don't worry, no matter if it's sleet'

(or maybe it was a snowstorm)

'or snow'

(Snow. Storm)

'cannot stop me. We have snow on the desert you know.' Only it was on very, very cold and humid nights when there was anything that could cover the grounds and it didn't fly right into your face, trying to cease your breathing and swallow you alive. Oh gods, his hands hurt so badly. 'I'm not foreign to this and I know how to deal with this.'

He didn't know, however, why he became so talkative out of sudden. Was he trying to convince the man more or was he talking more to himself? Because really, the guy was barely noticing him and he… he…

(his legs hurt too. It was so cold).

'I hope you know where are we going.' he whispered finally, probably to some part of his brain only, because between his mouth and his own ears there was only the maddening howling of the wind. And the white. The cold white that flew into his eyes and acted almost like the sand on the desert, only it was much, much worse.

In his opinion. And those were subjective. So he was entitled to one. That was a bit consoling.

But after some time, even that didn't matter that much. He thought for awhile about proposing a stop, a pause, a break – however one would want to call it – and to try to start a fire, somehow – he still could lit the blue flames, he had never tried to do this jutsu in the middle of snowstorm – but his mouth didn't want to open. Which was funny, because after being so talkative and even having it moving on its own thanks to the creeps he got out of cold, having it gotten stuck was pretty ironic. But when he thought of it, It didn't do that much harm too because one of his arms got cramped anyway, so he couldn't really make a seal. Oh well. Happens.

After all, they had probably been walking like that for… long, very long… it had to be day already because he really couldn't feel his toes anymore so they were going to enter some kind of tavern, right? Where he could drink something warm and maybe even get some sleep… because he was getting tired. Of this all.

Not that it mattered that much. After he thought some more of it, it wasn't even that cold anymore. And he was making such a big problem out of this all. All right, maybe they couldn't really move that fast anymore, but then his chest didn't really complain so there probably had to be some advantages to it?

He was only concerned now about why was this taking so long to get to the closest hideout. He looked up, as he somehow started looking at his own feet during all the psychological battle and Ono was…

So… so far away.

'Oh damn you…' he murmured, or rather, whispered through his lips, stopping in place. That was topping his list of complaints. The man had walked off so far away without even noticing how he left him behind (or was it him who had slowed down so much? He didn't know anymore). 'Wait, dammit!...'

But his throat didn't really work as he wanted. And that guy was still marching away like a freaking spring-operated puppet, like if all this didn't bother him at all. Angered, he threw out one of his hands (the working one) from under the cloak and tore the cowl off his head, uncovering the nose and mouth also. One of his scarves immediately flew away on the wind, but he didn't even notice. Actually, he didn't even notice the difference between wearing all that bunchload of the-so-called clothes and not wearing them. Something was going horribly wrong here, but he couldn't really put a finger on it. He looked at the hand, his skin bluish – and then he looked up. He should have like, tried to call him again. Or try to catch up to him.

But he couldn't really tell why should he do this anymore. After all… the snow was falling, right?

So he stood there, just like that, looking at it. Then looked up after the masked stranger. No… he really should be following him. He wasn't sure why, but…

He only had to put down that thing for a moment. Because it was so heavy. And then, this thing around his face – leave it, only for a minute, it was slowing him down – and those things… why was he wearing torn material over the hands?

After a moment he got rid of them too. There. So much easier. Without all those scarves, shawls, bandages, coats – whatever it was supposed to be – he just left it under his luggage and just moved forward. There. Much better. And it was probably getting warmer because…

_Because…_

Ono ignored the redhead, knowing that if he sunk low enough to responding, it would end up with him remembering exactly why he wasn't in a cozy little inn next to a fire without having to worry about taking a day off or two because he wasn't stupid enough to a) expose himself to the resident one-eyed angry guy and b) make said one-eyed angry man even angrier so they'd get kicked out of his yard.

And that would only make him mad. Mad enough to walk for hours to no end under sleet, which of course he wasn't doing on purpose. Or maybe he was. Or wished he were, so he could feel a bit more vindictive about what he was doing- The truth was that even if they had wanted to stop, there just wasn't any good place to do it.

They had entered Bear country several hours ago, and wouldn't you know it- it was full of bears. Not the normal bears you found in normal forest, because obviously each region had its own form of local wildlife seeming to have been specifically raised in hell to scare tourists. In Bear country, the bears were twice the size of normal bears.

The baby ones were, that is. Adults were bigger.

Under normal circumstances, leaking enough killing intent would have been enough to – if not travel safely- at least discourage most of the creatures to get close to a ninja. But now the mountain was full of young and not-so-young males high on testosterone and more than happy to fight- for females, for food, territory and just going in a direction that might or might not cross theirs at some point of their lives and everything under the sky, and then you had to kill the bear, and since you didn't know if anything big enough to dispose of its carcass would be around to get rid of it naturally you had to do it on your own- and they were big, did he mention that? Because they were. Big, that is.

Besides, one bear, any shinobi worth their salt could have handled. But if more than one arrived, things could get difficult, and when there was a mountain full of them and you had to cross it on foot… Well, if nothing else, the climate helped. Scent wouldn't be able to carry far and most would be somewhere dry, which was why he wasn't even bothering to check on the sporadic caves they came across. They'd be filled with either bears, bears killings and their inevitable droppings or all of the above plus an angry mama bear that was half the male's size and twice the viciousness.

No, the best they could do was get out of here as fast as they could, which sucked all the satisfaction right out of having whiny Sunanin whine on his ear about- actually, his majesty had gone kind of quiet back there.

He risked a look behind him, the hood of his cloak whapping annoying on the side of his face as he did so. He pushed it away to clear his field of vision… and saw nothing. For a moment he stood there, dumbly wondering why the hell the man had decided to suddenly leave, before the realization that he hadn't got so far hit him, and then he was running back on his tracks.

He was relieved to see that the redhead wasn't that far away, maybe a couple dozen meters away, but for some reason that escaped him, he was taking off all the accumulated clothing he had on himself. He just threw them off his person as if they offended him.

'What the hell are you doing!' he asked, running past the man to start picking what he'd thrown off. Thankfully the clothing was wet and didn't carry very far.

_Sure, leave a trail for anyone who wants to follow, why don't you?_ he thought angrily, making a wet bundle of scarves and jackets and walking back to the man with every intention of dropping them on him.

The redhead had only looked up at him, his posture straight and his gaze empty. Then slowly, he let go of the scarf he held in his hand, letting it fly away a few steps behind again.

'It's warm.' he muttered, looking at him 'I don't know.'

Then he simply turned his back on him, looking up at the spot where a few moments ago the man was, watching the whiteness of the snow. He had no intention of taking those clothes back. They didn't really matter to him. He just didn't need them now. He just felt getting warmer and…

He looked down at the road.

There was something he had to do, but he wasn't sure what it was. The stranger was here now, so he didn't have to follow him anymore, and…

Kids. He had to put the kids back to sleep. Because if he didn't then his wife probably would do it much later and then he wouldn't be able to sign the scrolls because he would have to help and then how he was supposed to get ready for the humid season if the snow still fell from the sky?

'I'll be right back.' he muttered, then started walking down, undoing the clasps of yet another of his undercoats. It was kind of hard as his fingers just didn't bend anymore, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

'…warm?' incredulity fairly dipped from Ono's words.

Sure, it wasn't freezing because if it were they wouldn't have this snowy snow thing dropping on them, they'd have only the snow. It wasn't as cold as it could get either, but certainly not something anyone would call 'warm', much less something to get undressed about.

And then the man started to walk away.

'Hey, where are you going- will you stop that?' he grabbed the man's hands on his own gloved ones, pulling them away from the claps. 'I don't care where the hell you think you are going, but unless you know a better-'

And that's as far as he got because that's as far as it took for the thin fabric to let the man's heat soak through- or more accurately, the lack of thereof. For a moment he stared at the older man, then resolutely let go to pull one off. The hand they revealed was slim and bony, with long fingers and numerous scars littering them. The edges of some sort of sigil barely peeked from under the sleeve, and he wrapped it around the Kazekage's wrist to check his pulse.

Unnoticed, he winced under the mask. Not really because of the pulse, which was a bit slower than normal, but the man's skin felt clammy and cold. And his own skin was cold enough from exposure too, so if by comparison there was a noticeable difference between the two…

'Oh, awesome.' His fingers were very white now. Almost bluish.

How the hell had he gotten into this situation?

_Might have something to do with the snob you picked a few days ago?_ some internal voice reminded him. _Short, red-haired, thinks entirely too highly of himself?_

Might have seen him.

_Surely you must have, he's hard to miss-__ got stabbed in the chest and lost like half of his blood and still walked nonstop for days, might have not had a decent meal since last night and you have been making him march under frozen rain for half a day?_

Oh, so that's why he didn't like having internal conversations.

It's also cold in Suna at night.

_Dry cold. This is humid cold, genius._

He paused to think, but then shrugged. Because there really weren't that many options left? Ninja kind of needed fingers for jutsu, something mother nature didn't keep in mind when survival was intended. Grabbing the man's hands, he pulled at them and brought them under his own cloak and shirt, letting a hiss when normal and warmed up skin meet something that felt like if it had just taken out of a freezer.

He tried to quall the feeling of his skin pretty much curling on itself and trying to crawl away at the by now completely alien feeling of hands other than his own on his chest: hands very likely to wield pointy things. Poisoned pointy things that made wood disappear. He wasn't very successful.

'If you do anything…' he warned, but didn't finish. If anything, having the man this close made him prime candidate to twist his neck in all sort of fun new shapes. But that didn't help deciding where to go from there. Warming his hands wasn't going to do anything for the man in the long run.

What to do? He didn't have any time to find shelter, find dry-something to dress him in it and cuddle to him next to a fire to warm him up. He didn't even have time to pick one of those steps and skip any of the other's. He just needed to get out of Bear territory, and they were less than halfway across thanks to how slow things were going.

And Daichi was not going to help him with that – his confused stare was much more empty than actual sky, clouded now with unfriendly grey and dark. The only bigger reaction he gave was a shout of pain once Ono actually tore and bended his stiff and cramped muscle of an arm to hid his hands under his cloak. Thanks to that, the redhead simply lost his balance and for a few moments actually stood against the man, leaving his not so small weight in the hands of the stranger.

He knew he was touching something and that it was probably skin, but he couldn't tell it apart from a piece of brick or wood. Actually, besides the feeling that he was touching something, his fingers didn't respond to anything at all.

For a brief second this thought flashed in his mind like a red alert and then just flew away with lightness of the butterfly. So what. It didn't matter. What really mattered was that he had to go there and take care of his own business. Like… kids, and… all that. And yet, he kept on standing still, looking beyond the shoulder of the man at the place where he stood a few seconds ago, not being able to get what was wrong with the picture. He knew had to move, only…

He moved his head to the other direction, his livid lips slightly apart, letting go clouds of white breath and looking vaguely drunk. His hands tingled with something but he couldn't tell what it was. Hot? Cold? Pain? But the most what it was what the feeling of uncomfortableness, which rose to the very disturbing levels when he actually managed to move tips of his fingers.

Very, very lightly, but it shook with both of his hands with powerful chills.

This actually hurt. Not that he cared but the pain… the actual pain…

'Stop that!...' He muttered through the shut teeth even if the man was not doing anything anymore 'We don't have time… I have to go… there… there!...'

He looked up at the man with wide opened eyes that held very little recognition. The mask was still and unmoving. Old. Ancient.

Ono stayed where he was for a moment, mask following the redhead's stiff advancing in the cold. Thoughtfully, he reached down to fix his shirt and cloak to minimize heat loss, trying not to think what the redhead's freezing hands had made his nipples feel like. He had better things to think about anyway.

Fear? Had he just detected fear from Suna's Yondaime Kazekage, his great majesty itself, had he just sounded… frightened? For a moment, the thought left him feeling not only happy, but also accomplished and oh so pleased with himself. Then the feeling was gone.

The redhead wasn't making sense, and if anything the eyes showed that while the light were on, that didn't precisely mean anyone was at home.

Half dead Sunanin. his mind reminded him helpfully. Got stabbed in the chest about a week ago? Through the back? Near the heart? Probably never needed to even think about sleet for his whole life, and now he's been – what? Three days in the open with snow? He's delirious and you think it's funny.

Only it didn't feel very funny anymore. It felt like kicking a wounded dog. An angry dog who wouldn't love anything more than for you to put any of your limbs just a few inches closer so he could tear the limb in half, but a wounded dog nonetheless.

'Let me go… I have to move… I have to…' the redhead repeated, trying to convince someone here. He didn't know why the man was not listening to him. He just didn't know. His thoughts curled to small, hard glassy balls and rolled around his head without a traced pattern, senselessly, illogically.

The ancient still stared at him. Seeing. Exposing.

_I see your sins, Daichi._

The redhead moaned pitifully.

'No, you don't. No, you don't!...' He finally tore his hands away, only to end up in another shout of pain. The cold bit at his hands suddenly, cruelly, causing him feel inescapable pain, along with the creeps that shook his body. He looked at the man for a moment then started running down the plain.

Why was this man here, after him!… Gods, he had to escape, or else… or something else…

The panic inside him rose, even if he still kept running down. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

And then he fell with a harsh and uncontrolled fall. He didn't know why. It was just his leg, one moment it was moving and the second… it didn't.

He looked around, panicked, but most of his body didn't respond. He looked forward. It was like something was there, in the darkness. And it waited for him.

_Already had him._

With a near-silent sigh, Ono followed him. He walked after the redhead, and only hurried a bit when the man fell down. He didn't reach him, however. Instead he stopped a few feet away, lifting his hands in a gesture expressively meant to show how harmless he was being.

'Hey, come back here.' he sounded vaguely frustrated, but not aggressively so. Hopefully he could try to reason 'Don't run away, I'm not going to hurt you.'

The redhead didn't respond. He had only kept laying there, staring in front of himself and slowly getting covered with snow – like if it was made of cotton or like if it wasn't even there. He felt warm, but not extremely so anymore. The sudden heat let go of him in steady slow pace, not leaving him completely. He couldn't feel his legs at all, and they didn't really move, just like if they were made of pieces of wood, attached to the rest of his body. Somehow this didn't terrify him that much, even if it was wrong at the very bad level. His hands had also calmed down a little, the tremors getting through them in a more seldom and less hurtful way. He heard the man talking but it didn't matter, not now, not at all. He just kept starring off into the darkness.

Something wrong… had happened. It was already there, trapping him.

He had to get away. Somehow…

But he didn't have a plan. What about going forward?

He laid his head down. If he only could dig a hole there and hide and maybe get some rest and get prepared, for battle… with kunais… and shurikens…

…and jutsus…

The same slender fingers from before brushed against the man's scalp with curious gentleness, seeming to stroke at random down the man's nape as if he were trying to soothe him.

Such a weird shade of red. Not at all like ripe cherries- it was much closer to old wine and those weird rocks entirely made on clusters of minerals, the ones that oxidized and stained with just a brush. His hand looked very pale, very dead and very naked against all that excess of color.

He wished he had kept the gloves on.

The black eyes had glittered for a moment with a slight move, the only indication that he actually felt the touch on his head. Then slowly, they closed.

I already was there. He didn't even notice. What could he say.

_The death feels so__ soothing._

'It's all right.' he said again, disliking how his voice sounded and thinking someone like the man could never deserve such a tone. Not out of him, and not out of anyone. When he found the small hollow at the base of the man's cranium, he pushed with his thumb, just once and harshly. Spongy tissue immediately gave, and the redhead immediately fell limp on the snow.

Actually, he didn't. He fell on the snow, but it was a lot stiffer than what he would have liked. Breathing into his bare hand until some resemblance to normal temperature settled, he sneaked it down the neck of the redhead's shirt. It was warmer than his hand had been, but not by much, not at all.

Carefully, he turned him a round and dusted the snow off of him.

'Great. Just wonderful.'

Unconscious redhead was considerably easier to handle than conscious, crazy and wondering redhead, but it didn't solve their transportation problem. He still had to get the redhead off the storm, and if body temperature was any sign, he had to do it very, very fast. Because even if he had been remotely inclined to strip and warm him up old school style, there just wouldn't be where.

'What else can go wrong today?'

And it was at this point that the universe remembered why one mustn't ask such questions out loud. Somewhere off in the distance, there was a low, inquisitive roar, immediately followed by a tree being knocked down.

A bear. Either fighting with someone and coming their way or just coming their way and sounding unhappy about it. It was at this point that Ono decided he had had enough.

Enough of paying babysitter to an overgrown man having his midlife (middeath?) crisis, enough of marching nonstop because he was carrying someone important enough to get recognized, enough of snowy snow and frozen water and crazy redheads. And above all, enough of Bear country.

'…I once heard dead men tell no secrets, your highness.' he grunted softly, taking a moment to adjust the redhead on his back in a way that would hopefully keep from upsetting his chest wound too badly. He didn't feel as heavy as he had when he'd dragged him to the cave while they still were in the desert, but still, unconscious people weren't easy to manage.

A moment later a massive brown bear burst into the small clearing. It was a young adult, easily towering over the younger trees by three or four heads, a large mass of scars and rippling muscles and hard-earned fat under his fur. It growled aggressively, looking around with small, beady eyes. Its nose followed the tracks with interest, but at one point, they just stopped in one place and didn't continue.

The male continued to scent around, but there was no trail to follow, no clue where the intruders had gone. Irately, it pawed at a nearby tree, and when that failed to settle it's picked aggressively, rammed against the thing until it cracked under his weight. Not that anyone cared.

Bears attacking trees for no apparent reason wasn't such an uncommon occurrence, and if maybe there were some tracks that might or might not have attracted the beast, well- no ninja were around to point fingers or explain it. No one was.


	5. Five: The rehabilitation

Daichi saw nothing. It was a warm cozy hay bed. He was tucked up to his neck with soft caress, his head left on the cushion of sweet words and fresh milk. He smelt the rain and the mud, the signs of healthy and fruity season from the times when the river flew through sands near his home. The faint smell of grass and blood also poked at him but he ignored it. He was careless. He felt safe.

And he loved it.

Sometimes, somewhere, something flashed before his own eyes like – burning fire- or –bloody hands – or –cup of warm soup- but it vanished in a blink of an eye. He thought nothing of it. Occasionally something had pressed at his chest cutting him from the air or just stabbed him in the lungs area with sharp pains but he forgot them just as quickly as they vanished. Time didn't exist.

'…at least one more weeek.' said something to his ear, followed with a sound of children babbling. He budged, startled as the feeling of pain hit him on the chest with much more reality than before. Then the same happened with his nose as humidity pressed at his nostrils rudely and that caused him to open his eyes.

He saw wide glassy windows, birds on the balcony, great amounts of water reaching horizon and the grey sky, a few minutes before the first sunrise. He looked at it, even more startled. The birds jumped here and there, making loud noise. The fire nearby burned very lightly, making him feel warmth and yet, the humidity still held.

He looked down. His chest was covered with new bandages. The beginning of new scar looked back at him from under the tissues, stating something that wasn't there. He slowly sat up, trying to look what was under. Some kind of a cut and stitches-

Last thing he remembered was starring with fear into the night, searching for some kind of beast- monster maybe- he wasn't sure now. It felt surreal, almost like if it didn't really happen. He pulled at the wound and winced. It seemed like if he had missed a lot of things. Time to fill in the gaps. He got up and quickly tip-toed to the window. Now this definitely wasn't a Bear Country. But he had no idea what it was. It held too much water – that one thing he was sure about.

There was the soft tip-tap of small feet on the wood, and then the door opened. There was a small girl in a blue winter dress carrying a small tray with fresh bandages some sort of medicinal pomade and water. She stood immobile for a moment, gawking at the older man, before her young features settled into a scowl.

'You shouldn't be up!' she said, her glare deepening before theatrically stomping inside and leaving the tray on a small table on the corner, hands going to her hips for emphasis. 'Gramps had a very hard time taking care of your infection, you know? You can't just go around and ruin all his work, get back to bed now!' she pointed to the bed with all the decision and reprove of a drill sergeant. She couldn't have been a day over twelve. The redhead looked at her with disbelief, openly staring. He wasn't used to such treatment, not now, not before in his life.

'…and may I know whom you might be?' he asked finally, tucking the light yukata more around himself (not his own, but that only meant he slept for longer than a day).'I don't feel bad enough to lay around when I can observe such stunning view.'

The girl didn't seem to appreciate the tone any more than the redhead had.

'Shouldn't you be introducing yourself if you are going to ask for my name?' she said, squaring her shoulders. 'You ninja never know any manners! If you *must* know, which you don't really *deserve*-' pointed sniff – 'I'm Kasumi, the granddaughter of Moroshita-sensei. He's only the best doctor in the district, so you better be thankful your friend thought of bringing you here instead to some other quack, because that infection wasn't easy to clear!'

The man had only looked at her with lightly puckered lips, then he had turned to the window again.

'I apologize, it's hard to keep up with good manners once you become a killer.' he muttered and faced the girl finally 'I'm Hiiro-san, the mere ninja from Cloud country. My profession is my secret. And I'm grateful for your help, miss Moroshita.'

The girl sniffed lightly, but didn't berate him any longer.

'It's grandfather you should thank for. So go back to laying down before you ruin all his hard work!' she made a gesture and a shooing motion, as if he were some sort of farm animal in need to be ushered to it's stall. 'Go back to bed and I'll get him here to look at you. Then we can get you something better to eat than soup. Even if it's great soup because I did it myself.'

The man smiled at her politely, though if anyone could look closer it would become visible how strained this smile was. If anything, he wanted to just turn around and ignore her openly, but life taught him that if anything, political nuances came first. And mattered the most. And as for now, it was this little girl who held all cards and decided what could happen to him. Closing his eyes, he sighed tiredly, looking tired, pretending to be weakened (he was not. He only blew off some steam), and walked up to bed.

'I'm sorry for the inconvenience.' he muttered as he sat down. His chest stung and burned against the pose threatening it to split open. 'That was careless of me. I'm sure the meal will be very tasty.'

And, if anything, he meant the last one. His stomach was empty like a bag that had been left on the desert for many, many days. He could actually feel how hungry he was by how not hungry he felt. Almost like if he forgot how it was to feel 'full'.

He lied in bed quietly and closed his eyes. He felt warm. Just the idea of finally feeling warm after having only the clear memories of terrifying, overwhelming cold lulled him more than the fact that he didn't feel cold. The young girl nodded in obvious (and slightly arrogant) approval.

'Very well, I'll bring him here now, so don't think of getting out of bed!' after some more pointing, she ran off, her white skirt willowing around her skinny legs.

It wasn't long after that she was back, trailing after an older man with a tray full of ointments and bandages at hand. The man looked to be about Daichi's height, with a square, solid constitution and lean muscles born from careful usage rather than actual training for battle. The man didn't look nearly old enough to be the girl's grandfather. Maybe her father, but not her grandfather, not with the healthy tan in his skin and the easy way he moved, and even the wrinkles on his face looked more like healthy lines made from squinting under the sun rather than age lines.

Only his hands gave away his age, with veins standing out like chords under the stretched skin and faint spots here and there.

'Hiiro-san, it is?' the man asked, his voice deep and slightly rough as he smiled. 'Kasumi-chan says you felt good enough to stand on your own.'

'Yes, it's me.' muttered Daichi, opening his eyes only after he counted to ten. It calmed him down and made him feel more relaxed. He didn't know this medic and he didn't know if he could trust him – actually, he was in the unknown place in the unknown bed within unknown family. It wasn't bad and they didn't seem to be hostile (now), but he was too old to not feel tense at such situations. And if the man would want to examine him, this would give negative results. He didn't have time to be pushed into bed 'just in case'. 'I woke up and decided to look through the window on the exotic sight you have here… truly, amazing view.'

'Indeed, indeed.' muttered the old man, without a doubt coming to him and touching his chest without a moment of hesitation. Only after he did that Daichi noticed his left hand started searching for kunai in the kunai pocket he didn't have by his leg anymore. 'It seems that the soup my dear granddaughter worked some good, true… but still, you had a bad injury here, Hiiro-san.'

The old eyes glanced at him, a bit yellowish, a bit waxy. Daichi felt the corner of his lip moving spasmodically in a tick and he couldn't calm it down. He knew what would be said next. It was more than obvious. Even more than the sun on the sky itself.

'Not very bad, but I wouldn't say it was an easy injury. Healed without professional help, leaving holes, frozen off… not an easy injury indeed.' The man muttered as he moved his old wrinkly hand a bit lower 'I suppose that talking about it would be too much and too long for you, Hiiro-san, so I'll just say this: you might feel strong but you are still very weak.'

Daichi swallowed. A lie. He wasn't weak. He felt it in his bones. He felt it in his muscles. He knew he was strong enough to actually open the window and walk on the wall. But this was not a mere statement, it was a warning.

'I don't feel that weak.' he opposed, pressing on the letters heavily. The man had only pursed his lips. The wrinkly mouth made him look more like a turtle, an old monkey, a camel.

'Very, very weak. At least one more weak or this…' his finger moved over his heart and signed a cross over it. Daichi blinked and lied on the cushion heavily. He didn't need any more words.

'Maybe you're right, my bones still feel so empty.' he said, a bit without sense, but it didn't matter. He was not to tell the truth, right? Then, as if he had remembered something, he looked up at the doctor again 'Where's the man I travelled with?'

'Ah, yes, getting something in your stomach should be a priority now that you are awake…' the man mused, nodding to his granddaughter, who just nodded and ran off again, her feet tapping loudly against the wood on the floor. While she left, the man carefully cut away the gauze over the redhead's chest, his movements slow and body language as passive as possible. Obviously he had some experience dealing with shinobi and their universal dislike for sharp pointy things in the vicinity of vital organs.

'Healing well, indeed. It's impressive, even with the beaten your immunological system got from all of this, I haven't seen many respond so well to treatment.' The man fiddled on a pocket sewn on the side of his jacket, extracting a small stethoscope and turning the redhead halfway around. 'Please take as deep a breath as you can without hurting yourself, then let go of it slowly.' he ordered, placing the cold metal end of the tool in his back. Daichi looked at him for a moment, hesitating, but eventually doing so. The cold metal burned against his skin, how quizzical.

'Where's the man I travelled with?' he asked again, trying to sound as relaxed as possible. He didn't like when his questions were ignored, not such as important as location of the only known thing he could hold onto. It wasn't a nice thought, but the cloaked figure, the Ono man was his life saver and he was still more in need of being saved, even if he was already saved more than once. Which put him under the horribly big debt. He wasn't eaten by the monster right? (and there was no monster, he knew it, he just had a feeling they weren't exactly alone out there, back then). 'Is he all right?'

'Ono-san, you mean.' the man said, rather than asked. 'Breathe again.'

Changing the spot where the now slightly warmed metal was lying on, he listened again.

'He is making our village a very big favor, a very big favor indeed.' The man mused, finally pulling the stethoscope again and bending his fingers backwards with the help of each hand, the junctures cracking noisily. A moment later, his extended fingers were on the redhead's back, ignoring the criss-crossing old scars as a warm green glow enveloped the tips. A moment later he was expertly pressing key points to aid his chakra system on healing. 'He should be back soon enough, if it's anything like the last time.'

Daichi blinked and stopped his body only a second before he had actually jumped out of the reach. The touch was intrusive, almost stroking the private, and that was not very pleasant. He had to admit though, it refreshened him and made his blood boil. That meant his body was regenerating.

'A big favor…' he said, lost in thought. What kind of favor could such man be doing in such… place? He didn't know how he was mentioned or if he was supposed to know where he was, so he didn't ask the name of the place, even if he really, really wanted to know. He had only barely touched the locations on the map of his memory and knew that they could be in the Waterfall v illage or the Land of Hot Springs. The humidity was suffocating. He wondered how long he was out. Depending on the fact that the man had to carry him out of the freezing place and take him somewhere with so different climate, he had to be out for at least a month. He wasn't sure how was that possible he was still alive. '…what is he doing?'

'Pest control.' the man said in the same sedate tone from before, his warmed up hand finally leaving the man's broad back as he inspected his fingertips until the glow was gone. 'If we let his heal for the rest of the week this should finish mending nicely, just remember to be careful to keep your arms close to you whenever you use upper body strength.'

While he cleaned his hands in a nearby basinet, the little girl came back, carrying a tray with a platter of stew and some bread, beaming proudly at the older man. He smiled back at her and ruffled her dark hair affectionately.

'Oh.' he added as an afterthought, wrinkles making creases around his eyes when he smiled 'And when you completely ignore my orders and start training, try to start with something that won't strain your chest. You still have internal stitches, we wouldn't want to upset those yet…'

The redhead had only looked at him with a mild surprise – it showed that the man had a lot of experience in life and surely, big part of it had to be taken by ninjas – because without it he wouldn't be able to even dare to mention something like that. He smiled lightly.

'I'm forty, still the prime of youth.' he said as he took the stray with soup on his knees 'Young enough to remember about reason and consequences.'

Well, not much, but at least more than before, when he was young and stupid.

He slowly dig at the soup. It was sweet, fruity and watery – he felt also that one of the ingredients had to burn too much before being added to it, but that still meant nothing to his empty stomach. He bit through it along with a dry bread and filled himself with energy. It helped him to relax as his body balance finally got back to the middle instead of concentrating on the head.

'One would think it would also be old enough to know better than to go around with such grave wounds untreated.' the man said, but it was as bland a comment as any other. This redhead had been brought back half dead, swung over the back of a masked man with no given last name, who just also happened to be covered from head to toe in conservative clothing that didn't smell like if they had recently been anywhere near Bird Country.

If they had been able to affording anything better than some brutal cauterizing on the go, he was sure they would have picked it, though who really knew with rogue ninja?

'If you need anything, you can ask my daughter for it. She's the one running this inn. I will come back to check on you tomorrow. Try to be here.'

#+#+#+#+#+#

'Kasumi-chan told me you had sneaked out.'

The birds perched in different parts of the roof were momentarily started into silence, regarding the new stranger with distrust. They were, however, pretty used to close human contact, so only one or two were actually startled enough to fly away, the rest quickly forgetting the human and going back to uninterrupted and colorful cacophony while the man walked closer.

Ono had changed the heavier cloak for a lighter one, the only visible difference being the material and the bulk of the cloth. He smelled faintly of water, soap and disinfectant.

'I trust you are feeling better?'

The redhead looked at him for a short but pensive moment. The smell of disinfectants showed the truth about that the man surely wasn't far away, doing anything strange or suspicious (not that he knew enough to judge or opinionate that he didn't do it anyway). The soap and water felt, if anything, a bit weird, but lived enough to recognize it as a smell of clean skin. And that was good enough.

'As good as I can feel at the given moment.' he muttered, looking back in the front of himself. The sun rose up already and shone nicely with warmth upon the watery grounds, adding to the serene atmosphere. Somewhere far away the birds kept on uttering a concerto of sounds, much more synchronized than the sounds given by the scattered groups around them. Probably a code or a message, Daichi didn't know. He never had an occasion to learn the language of codified sounds, much less animalistic ones.

But it was a nice image. He liked the feel of the wind on his skin, even if it was damp and made his body sweat to the point his clothes stuck to his skin greasily.

'…you too seem to be well.'

Ono obviously found it an odd thing to say, though it was impossible to say if he was wondering if it was a standard polite comment or plain sarcasm, given his oh so revealing attire.

'I can't complain.' he said instead, taking a few steps closer and regarding the man with the expressionless mask for several seconds, trying to discern if he really was in any state to be out like this. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him, because he broke the stare to also look into the sun's direction.

He honestly hadn't been sure the man would make it that first night when he'd brought him, the sudden change of temperature hadn't really roused him, just made his fever worse. He was lucky the doctor he had found seemed to have experience on the matter, because he didn't ask any questions and just went to work on Sabaku.

There was something to say about Sunanin, though. If they were all as durable as their leader, it was no wonder they were so hard to face despite their low numbers. The first time had been impressive enough, but seeing the man bounce from near death to this was a little awe inspiring.

'It's been three weeks now.' he said after a few moments of pondering if maybe the man's family had a healing factor, not that he remembered reading anything about it in any of the available ninja cards. 'I don't think anyone suspects you are alive.'

'What are you saying?' answered the redhead with a little humoristic laughter that bribed just in the undertone, but didn't really pluck out 'As far as my knowledge reaches, my doppelganger knows how to hold on in insufferable places.'

And it was funny, only not really and not that much, because it shouldn't be Orochimaru but him instead, and he was here, in some kind of a Heaven country and licked the wounds he was not supposed to have on the first place. He looked at the lank ask, not even trying to hide he was looking at him. His amusement vanished without a trace.

How would be he able to go on if it wasn't for this man? No matter at what angle he looked and how he tried to translate the situation, in all results he was pretty much dead, very dead or cold dead, his corpse rotting away and feeding a bunch of ants and vultures. That was something he couldn't forget about and didn't even want to. It was a great debt.

'You saved my life again.' he murmured in a low tone 'Do you know how uncomfortable it makes me feel?'

That seemed to take the man back. There was nothing of it in the words themselves, but for some reason it had sounded grateful to him. Definitely not something he had expected of the Yondaime Kazekage.

'…I had to carry you on my back. And you are a bit overweight.' The man said, rising a hand to show fingers separated by an inch or two as if to express how much of a 'bit' he was talking about. 'That was also very uncomfortable for me.'

That was a blatant lie, because after so many days of unconsciousness and the harsh march through the desert, the man had lost enough mass he had plainly felt the difference between when he had first dragged him to that cave and carrying him to this if he wanted to talk about uncomfortability, he could always bring up how he had called him by his wife's name. He couldn't help but wonder if he did it when he slept, or just when he was on the brink of death.

The redhead tsked, showing an ironic smile, but nothing more. For a moment he kept on watching the pigeons and larks flying around, chirping like if nothing has changed. But the man had obviously tensed.

Overweight, all right. He could play jokes and needless, even if it was really useless. The man wanted to laugh it off, maybe put it away to bring it back in a bad moment, but he couldn't really play that way. After a moment of pregnant silence he turned to the masked persona again.

'You have my gratitude already. What else could I give you?' he muttered, watching him with a tight smile and just as furrowed eyebrows. It was a rather painful moment. No ninja should have so much debt in the other's pocket unless it was his own family – and not any, the closest one. He didn't even know how old this man was.

If he really was a man, that was.

The masked man stayed where he was in uncomfortable silence- this wasn't what he was expecting at all, not from his Kazekage-by-God-and-Birthright-Sabaku-no-Daichi.

The redhead didn't bow down to anyone, didn't listen to anyone but himself and he certainly didn't say what suspiciously sounded like 'thank you'. It wasn't exactly an unpleasant surprise, but for some reason it seemed unsettling. He didn't want to think about things like that the man might have changed and grown out of some of his most abhorrent character quirks. It was too unsettling a thought.

'You can keep your promise to me on regards of that snake's den, maybe also try not to piss off the next inn keeper or guardian we meet.' he said, looking along the rooftops at the multitude of birds pecking around and chattering to themselves happily. The few messenger hawks he saw were all wearing their off duty bands. '…also, you could pay me back. I didn't know someone of your rank would be so much high maintenance, you have turned out to be quite an expensive traveling companion.'

The redhead looked away from him, not changing the expression. He looked at the shimmering water, for a moment lost in thought, away from the talk. So, in the end man wanted to delay his debt – gods only might know what would he wish back. He was glad that he started speaking about money, though. He didn't have much with himself as he didn't even take a lot on the first place – but nothing was for free. And it was never easier to let go of some meaningless gold. Sure, it was important, but it counted much less than for example, promise of a marriage with the oldest daughter. And if the man would get stubborn, he wouldn't have a way to weasel out even of such abhorring requests.

He looked down at his hands. A glance of a thought, the flicker of an idea was sacrificed over his newest ring that he was given by some grateful shop keeper. He liked that man, but he would rather not look at cuffs or ancestry jewels.

'Here.' he said, offering the man the ring 'White gold, should cover some expanses. You can count it as a promise given for the future coverage of your wish.'

He let go of the ring and looked back at the glimmering waters. The humid wind blew around them, making some birds fly away.

'But as for snake's den… just keep that in mind that I am no god.'

And that was a clear message.

Ono didn't seem to feel like playing into the implications of the man's words, instead inspecting the ring. It was a pretty thing, and seemed like quite good quality. But they would have to melt it or sell it to someone getting out of the continent, the last he wanted was someone to recognize it as belonging to that guy with the blue robes and the hat all over the desert.

'I believe you, but we still need your new you to some work and get known. The place we are going can be a bit exclusive.'

Which meant that it was a 'criminal's only' sort of club, and unlike Ono, he hadn't so far done anything to claim interest in joining. He still wasn't sure what would be more convenient, if to create a new identity or just pick one of the missing nin they would hopefully be getting rid of on the way. Provably the latter would be easier to handle, given how they wouldn't have to bother with making up a back-story. He had already been dealing with a few, but so far he hadn't found anyone that seemed to fit the man's age and built. Mostly, he was just afraid that if he did try to replace someone, they would eventually run into someone who did know that person while at Sound. That would be disastrous.

Getting a headband would be no problem, but updating bingo books took time, and if the information about his ninja id somehow came up in conversation… Kabuto was busy at Suna playing teacher's pet with his master, sure, but he doubted he'd be the only one collecting ninja cards.

'Just keep in mind I am going there on a mission. Once I have what I need, you are free to play with all the reptiles you want.'

The man glanced at him and looked up at the sky. The weather was blurry but pleasant. He closed his eyes.

'New identity… sounds like fun.' he said in a smug tone as he folded his arms 'But my, didn't know you're one of those.'

The chuckle followed.

There was a short pause from the taller man.

'I'm sorry, I don't follow.'

The man looked at him, his expression greatly amused. But of course he didn't follow. It seemed that if anything, his interlocutor wasn't as old as he wanted to look like to be. He noticed it earlier in the way he kept on slipping on the bits of his youth. He wondered only how young he was – and if much, how much reliable he was? But those were only suspicions so far.

'You know, I treat reptiles as tools, they're great containers of poison. But as that…' he smiled a bit wider 'Maybe one night, when I get drunk enough you can tell me how does it feel like to kiss a cold skinned animal. But I don't think I'd hold so much promiles of spirit in my blood to listen to you.'

The man didn't do or say anything for a few moments. Then, out of nowhere he crossed his arms in front of his chest, hip cooked lightly in a standard reproving – and so far, provably most expressive to come out of him- position.

'I still don' follow, but it sounds vaguely dirty.' he said calmly, remaining in it for a few more seconds before turning around and starting to walk away, the crowded birds parting and angrily swapping at each other to get out of the way.

'And just so we are clear.' he said over his shoulders as he reached the edge. 'The one who secretly sneaked out of curfew without permission to meet up with an actual snake was you.'

'It's because I like bad boys.' said the redhead and started chuckling. Surely, he could play along, why not. Though in this one, he had to give up the upper hand. His expectations came true though – the persona under a mask was either a very young man or a very prude person. He didn't decide yet what would be better. 'Danger turns me on.'

'Unsurprising, given your reputation.' Ono jumped to the next rooftop and kept walking away. 'Though I did expect your attraction to be based on really bad ideas rather than danger.'

Daichi didn't lose his smile at that, but he also didn't answer. This was going a little too far, too deep and too painful – and he'd rather not start on getting pummeled into a dirty past and mistakes he made. Instead, he turned back to look at the view on the shimmering waters. One of the sparrows flew in front of his face. A second later it fell on the ground, cut in two.

'Friggin' bird fetishist.'

The mask turned around to regard him again.

Ono had thought he would be following him, but apparently the man wanted to stay outside and frolic in the sunshine some more. He felt oddly compelled to stay with him. And he didn't think it was such an irrational idea, either- so far the man had managed to get himself into life and death situations all on his own with him babysitting his stubborn ass off. Who knew what he'd be capable of on his own?

Irrational or not, he was practically dead on his feet, and his side ached where there more than likely was a bruise forming. That's what he got from getting too carefree about his kills.

'I'm going to my room. Please try not to be on your deathbed again when I wake up.'

The redhead looked at him for a moment, slowly wiping out his fingers from the droplets of blood, then he smiled.

'Have good dreams, sweet prince.' he said and straightened out, pulling at all his stitches at the challenging level 'Worry not, the king knows how to deal with life and will find you a good maiden in the meantime.'

And when the man vanished, he waited for another minute and followed his path.

The room the younger man was occupying wasn't very different from the redhead's. It was marginally smaller and the sparse furniture was distributed differently. The night table wasn't cluttered in an array of medicinal beverages and ointments either, but that's as far as the differences went. Ono regarded the few feet of space for a moment, content to see nothing seemed out of place, then reached up and started unclasping the fastenings on his cloak.

Both their backpacks were currently being kept in some traveling scrolls, and he really should have given the redhead his back, but he had forgotten. He had just taken it because he didn't trust anyone around not to take advantage of the half idea kage and his missing companion to try to steal something or just take a peek.

Robbery was the least of his concerns, what he had worried about was some of his personal objects being recognized as who they really belonged to. He pulled the dark material off carefully, trying not to upset his side when he did, then carefully folded it over a near-by. Underneath he wore clothing not unlike an ANBU assassin- standard, form-fitting pants with grey leg warmers and a dark tank top that left his arms bare.

Unlike an ANBU, however, instead of a single mark, his pale arms were littered with bold dark tattoos. He had started working on the single fingerless glove he wore before casually flicking a kunai to his right.

'May I help you, Hiiro-san?'

Daichi cursed and came out from the shadow.

'Nothing, just playing a sleazy genin who can't do a thing with camouflage.' he muttered and almost, almost came out of the place when he spotted his own luggage. That explained why he hadn't seen it before. And there he thought he had lost it forever on snowy plains of deep inside the nowhere lands. '…came to ask about my belongings, but I guess I don't have to do that.'

'I had it with me for safekeeping.' the man said, back to working the glove off. The skin underneath it had even more of the excess of lines that made difficult to discern scars, looking all the more striking with how pale the skin was. 'You can take it to your own room. The scroll I kept it in is next to it.'

His hand went to his side, pressing carefully. Tender, but not that bad. The shower had helped some.

The redhead more than enthusiastically came near the bad to pick it up, but he stopped at the pain induced gesture. He hadn't seen it before and that was only indicating, that if anything, the man got it during the time he was out of this world. He glanced over the arms briefly, wondering what he had to actually go through to gain such – but then, he never really lived among the lower ranks to know how bad it came to nowadays missions. The times when he knew how battlefield looked like from the inside out were different, and long gone. Modern technology made everything more vicious.

'Are you all right?' he asked, looking at the side of the masked man. 'Because you don't look too good.'

'That's a strange thing to say.' the younger man answered, leaning to work on the legwarmers. 'I got hit when I wasn't expecting it. Nothing's broken, so it should be fine soon enough.'

'I heard it too many times from the mouths of people who died the next day.' muttered the redhead as he slowly came closer, not moving his eyes away from the spot. It didn't look too threatening, but if the insides were broken, it was going to lead to some catastrophe. He hesitated for a moment, but against himself, finally reached out for it, stopping a centimeter above the body.

'I'm going to touch it now and you're not going to rip my arms off.' he muttered in an only warning. With ninjas you were never too cautious. And then, he quietly laid it on the tender spot.

There was an odd sound from behind the mask- something like a cough that didn't come out right. That was more like it. Where other people asked for permission, this man demanded it. Still his hand hurt and he wasn't sure he wanted him that close, so the man moved away to avoid it.

'I already checked it. Thank you for your concern, but it's really fine.'

The redhead stilled with the hand in the air, looking at the blank mask, trying to read something from his voice – symptoms of poisoning, high fever or just anything that went with broken spleen – but he didn't see any. He slowly lowered his hand down. Also… did he just … laugh there?

'That's your choice.' he said, still glancing back at the tender spot 'But I have cooling ointment in my collection of potions. That's the least I can do.'

It was rather obvious the redhead still felt uncomfortable with unpaid debt. Ono didn't try to move away again. He hadn't been lying when he said it wasn't that bad -sure, it hurt a lot and it would most likely hurt even worse tomorrow, but nothing that would significantly diminish his abilities. So he didn't really need the man's... fussing, for lack of a better term. On the other hand, if the Kazekage did have something that would make it get better faster, it seemed kind of stupid to reject the offer.

'…will it make my skin melt like likely the rest you decided to pack?'

The redhead rose his eyebrows lightly, but not high enough to indicate surprise or offense. Just a politely amused and interested expression. So, the man had agreed. It would be actually nice how would he react to the effects of this oil – in the end, smothering the pain was one of side effects, not the main purpose of it. Nothing harming, but he didn't have anything else that could work that way. And as he used it rarely…

He smiled.

'It's just an average ointment. You don't have to either trust me or use it. But it's here.'

And with that, he fished out the small white ball out of one of the side pockets, shining with plastic and surgical sterility.

'So, how is it?'

'Suspicious.' The man said plainly, looking at it for a few seconds. When it didn't implode or grow legs and start skittering around the man's arms, he picked it up. 'What does it do?'

'Flips you inside out and hangs you from a ceiling.' said the redhead with a playful smile on his face, and then, he grabbed the luggage with one move 'I trust you enough to leave you with my life now, why don't you try to do the same?'

And with that, he had exited the room.

The fox mask watched him go, not moving from the spot until the door closed. After a few seconds of regarding the jar in his hand, he went to his own backpack, quickly producing several seals. Once put in a perimeter, they would make sure no one who tried to teleport in was able to. There had been some nice rocky cliffs on the way there, he was sure they'd be an enjoyable place to visit for whoever tried to get smart.

It was only after doing this that he removed the mask, not that it made much of a difference. A head full of light blonde hair, silvery strands mixing arbitrarily with golden yellow in a surprisingly homogeneous mix. The bangs were long enough to cover his eyes almost entirely, and the lower part of his face was completely covered by a sloth half mask.

He looked down again at the ointment, resting harmlessly in bed. Cautiously, he smeared a bit on his wrist, the way he had been taught. It would be several hours until he could be sure he wasn't having any side effects, but he didn't care much. He fully intended to spend them sleeping.

Why didn't he trust the other?

'Because I can't afford it.' he said, fingering the kunai under his pillow.


	6. Six: The rest

During the rest of the day, the redhead managed to end the trip on the rooftops safely, get back to his bed and get bored enough to do a couple of curious pushups – which had ended in feeling of something being torn inside him and the feeling of dizziness after a few minutes. As much as it was plainly stupid, he finally bended down to admit he probably made himself bleed internally (he just thought an innocent push up wouldn't hurt him!) and also – bowed down to the medic with embarrassment, admitting he had probably screwed up his work. That had resulted in a time spend in delirious narcotic state as he had to be ripped open again, and he had to be sedated enough for that. After that he slept for another couple of hazy hours. When he finally came to his senses it was night, and he had welcomed the tray of cold food near his bed with a happy sigh, even if it was only a thin chicken soup almost with no pasta and half of a dry bread. Only when he had ended sucking on the last droplets of the vitaminised mixture (he felt sloppily added sour and sweet pastilles to the salty water, not that he minded, it made the soup more interesting in taste) when he started enjoy his position. It was the first time since long time ago he could actually sleep and eat without a constant pressure on being affordable twenty-four per seven, without a need to get better immediately, without the people outside wanting him to be responsible, without an unstable psychotic kid being moody when he least needed him to throw adolescence tantrums. It almost felt like a gap in-between the stressful get away – the moment he could rest and count dots on the ceiling. And it was good.

'I almost forgot how it is to be a normal human.' he muttered to himself, daring to feel distaste at his position; the curiosity of how far his good state could stretch followed. He just couldn't help, but be curious. It was one of those imitating quirks that led him everywhere wrong in his life. Including the bijuus and meeting with the lethal sennin. But before he could think of doing something stupid, the need was addressed almost immediately. On the other side of the transparent glass a bird squawked and it the window with it's wings. Daichi watched it for a moment, surprised that any animal dared to be so arrogant within human's territory, when his face had changed. It was Washimoki, one of his most loyal summons. Apparently, this place – he still hadn't learned where 'this' was – was a station for his current journey. No wonder, since all roofs almost shone with small preys, along with shimmering waters that Daichi was sure had to contain fat and nutritious fishes.

Quietly, he got up from the bed and tip-toed to the window, watching the grey feathers and the headband on one of the stark yellow eyes. He hesitated from opening it, though.

'Washimoki?' he hissed at him in a whisper, just to be sure he was not wrong. The hawk let out a squeal, something on the side of the eagle's warning sign and the bark of a big shepherd's dog – and finally landed on the thin window sill on the other side.

'Brat, good to see you.' it said in a half-confidential tone, though it was obvious he was confused about the whole thing 'What are you doing here? I didn't hear you were going to visit the Bird Country.'

Oh, so it was a Bird country. The most obvious answers were the hardest to find. Daichi smiled lightly.

'I wasn't really planning on it.' he muttered, the crossed his arms 'And technically, I'm not even here.'

'Darn right, you're about to go to the chuunin exams in Konoha. What's going on?'

'I died, Washimoki. And the person that is going to Konoha is no more.'

The hawk stared at him, then squealed again, this time sounding more like a constipated frog.

'I don't like it, brat. I don't like it at all.' Then he had jumped from one side of the sill to the other, imitating the sparrow so well it wasn't even funny. Daichi, however, snorted in laugh. It was nice to know that the summon was getting so excited over this, at least one character was still missing him enough to shed a tear on his grave. 'Let me in, we'll talk.'

'I can't, Washimoki. Not now.' He said, leaning on the transparent glass a bit 'And I can't request nothing of you instead of not trying to get to Suna. It would be too dangerous, for both you and me.'

The grey feathers glinted when the bird looked to the side, and then moved his head upside down in a curious stare.

'But can I at least show up on breakfast?'

Daichi smiled at him. The always empty, hungry stupid sparrow.

'Yes, on breakfast, you can.' he said. The bird chirped like a nightingale and simply flew away, without goodbyes. Washimoki was not a bad bird. But that didn't mean he would summon him anytime soon. The redhead looked up at the sky, dotty with a handful of curious stars, light and not very dark. He wondered for a moment if the masked man had already discovered how the ointment worked or if he was too afraid to use it.

'Well, we will know tomorrow.' he said to himself with a light smile and got back to bed. Somehow, all that – the meeting, the walk, the sense of having vacations and the fact Ono was using his products – all together had lightened his mood. So when he slept, he really slept – and he had pleasant dreams.

Unlike the redhead, Ono didn't have dreams - good, bad or otherwise - he just slept uninterruptedly for about seven hours, before being roused by some shy knocking on the door. He sighed deeply, annoyed with his cloth mask (it felt humid enough to tell him he had likely drooled on it) and reached to rub at his eyes. Bird Country, Suzume Inn. And at the very least four hours before he had intended to wake up. By natural causes, if possible. How come he was feeling all the more tired since he picked up a ¾ dead Kazekage?

The knock came again, even lighter than before. As far as he could tell based on the area, it was someone around half his height. The little girl, then. He threw the blankets off, grumbling to himself something incoherent about having to remember to leave 'no-disturb' signs on the door next time- before letting the rest of the air out in a just as grumbled hiss. It seemed that his bruise had also woken up and decided to come bid him good morning, how well mannered. His fox mask came next.

Relaxing as much as he could so the muscles on his side wouldn't stress and pull at the area, he quickly moved to the door, throwing it open. There was a squeak, and all his good intentions on regards of pained sides went to hell when he had to quickly bend down to catch the tray before the soup fell on top of the little girl.

'S-sorry Ono-san!' she stammered, quickly scrambling back to her feet and bowing profusely.

'That's all right. How may I help you, Kasumi-chan?'

The girl, who was making a movement to reach for the tray again, immediately pulled her hands behind her back and took a step back.

'Uh-no, not really. I…' she licked her lips nervously, wringing the edge of her blue. 'Mama told me to bring you lunch.'

Obviously someone had, he doubted the girl would get close to him willingly, she was obviously terrified of him. The irony of life - she was perfectly content with bossing around Sabaku, who was far more likely to wring her little neck and throw her aside like a rag doll without batting an eye, yet it was him she distrusted. He always thought he had gotten himself used to living with a mask, and then these sort of things happened and made him realize he probably never would.

'I see. Please thank your mother from my part, Kasumi-chan, I'll bring down the tray in time for dinner.'

'Okay! I'll tell her right now!' the girl said, obviously relieved before running off, her bare feet tapping noisily against the hardwood floor. He was left staring after her - he would have liked to inquire what was his companions state, and given the lack of answers he should probably go check on him. His wool-filled mattress, however, made a point about reminding him it had only been a few hours and surely the man couldn't have done anything too damaging to himself in such a short time, right?

He inhaled his food as fast as humanly possible, not really tasting it and throwing manners to some corner where he could pick them back up when he actually needed them, then went back to bed. The whole bending to lay on it was far more annoying an experience than he would have liked, ad he found himself staring at the jar of ointment with curiosity. He didn't feel drugged - surely by now he would have some symptom if the stuff was poisonous, right? His wrist looked perfectly fine. It was even slightly cooler to the touch and he had to add more pressure than expected to actually feel it.

It couldn't hurt to try.

#+#+#+#+#+#

The next day surely started calmly. The sun rose without surprises, Daichi woke up rested and healed a bit more, the girl had brought him food that tasted still a bit dry and bland, but he still was starving enough to not complain – and the humidity was still high. A packet of birds was making a cacophony everywhere, the only stop being around the midnight and three hours until the – that's right, third in the morning. It was almost like if the life never went silent here. Daichi had only ended up drinking a sour plum tea while he tried to make a few sit downs with perfectly straight back, when he spotted the cloaked figure.

'Oh. Good morning.' he said, not putting down the cup as he made his twenty seventh sit down. He felt too relaxed to rush it. Ono calmly stepped in, then closed the door behind him, his slim figure and grossly tattooed arms once again covered from sight by the cloak. Like the cold, the humidity didn't seem to affect him much.

'Good morning.' he said evenly, the dark eye holes of the mask unmoving from his form. 'I'd like to know why my stomach was see through for most of yesterday.'

The redhead looked at him for a moment, then smiled, masking it quickly with another sip of tea.

'Maybe because you used the surgical ointment for precise operations?' he said thoughtfully, like if he was actually trying to help solve the problem instead of explaining it 'You know, seeing how everything works before the first cut is very helpful.'

'Funny, that's what Moroshita-sensei thought. After I interrupted his meal because I didn't know what was happening and thought my insides were going to fall out.' Then he threw the jar at the redhead hard as he could, straight to his face. The redhead caught it just in the nick of time before it broke his nose, but he also lost his balance and sat down straight on his ass. A bit of tea spilled on the floor in colorless droplets.

'Why are you so angry?' asked the redhead, this time inspecting the stain from the tea over his sleeve and simply deciding to leave it to dry 'I offered you something to cease your pain and you obtained that. This ointment is very good for stopping the pain, mostly because people get cut when it's applied. It does no harm, unlike the other oil I have and it can be used almost without limits. You should thank me.'

'I would thank you - nicely at that - if you had warned me of what it did.' The man said, no agitation as much as plain anger creeping into his voice. 'Especially after I asked. You are not the only one who dislikes not going what's going on with their own body, remember?'

Because apparently it was perfectly fine for the man to wake up after days of unconsciousness without knowing what had happened and demand answers, without letting the only person who had tried to help close unless he explained he was just trying to heal his chest when the idiot opened the makeshift stitches with his own struggling. The redhead didn't answer right away, but he looked at the mask for a moment or two in silence. Then he simply got back to drinking his tea.

'That was childish from my side, I apologize.' he said simply, looking off into the ceiling. As it seemed, the man behind that mask didn't try to even loosen up from time to time. Quite stressing, but then – all more admirable on battlefield. 'I can give you the other balm in apology, but it might make you sick with sea sickness and nail you to the toilet.'

'I think I'll pass, thank you.' the taller main stressed, or maybe he was still angry. For some reason the older man admitting to fault so easily didn't make him feel better, all the contrary actually. And he wasn't even sure why. Maybe because it was unexpected. Or maybe because he felt like still being angry at the man and it was childish on his part to remain so after an apology.

'Just… please don't do it anymore.'

He wondered how something you applied to your skin could upset your stomach. He wondered why the hell the man had it at all. Daichi snorted into his tea. Good grief.

'After what are you doing to my pretty sleeves I wouldn't even dream to.' he answered and drank it up till he hit the bottom of the cup 'You don't sound too convinced though. Want to hug it out?'

The taller man slowly pulled even further away, though it wasn't exactly in response to the offer itself. It was a good thing there was a mask between him and the world (oh irony of ironies) because his eyebrows didn't seem to be very sure about what they wanted to do. They seemed set between frowning suspiciously and trying to climb into his hair.

What was this - this attempt of a joke, of good humored sarcasm? It just seemed so... nice? He started wondering when he'd gotten so lonely talking with the Yondaime Kazekage made him think the man was friendly.

'Those are fresh bandages.' he said instead, making a small gesture to the white gauze peeking from the neck of the button down shirt the redhead was wearing. By all means, he should have been with it up on the air by now so the scab would dry up and heal faster. Daichi flashed him a smile, obviously amused by the reaction of the masked man. It looked almost like if the man was scared of him. He stopped enjoying such plays some time ago, but the man's gestures were bringing some good memories. Not that he wanted to mistake uncomfortableness for fear.

'Yes, new way of putting them on. Fashion does change around quickly, doesn't it?' he muttered as he moved his hand over the bandages with rather affectionate manner 'I think they bring out the color of my eyes, what do you think?'

Which was absolute piece of bullshit, because white didn't mix well with his dull black eyes – nothing actually did. But hey, he wasn't even serious here. Not that he wanted to take it to serious level. As if he had been traveling the same wavelength of a thought, Ono's answer is a simple

'Your eyes are black.'

And crossing his arms in front of his chest in such a way that seem to demand the redhead to explain why does he seem to need new bandages on wounds that should be well into healing by now. The redhead suddenly looked at him, his eyes opened wide, his expression surprised. A moment later he was up on his legs and walking close, not uncomfortably so, but enough to make whispering possible and thus – hearable.

'My god.' he muttered, then leaned even closer, lowering his voice to the whisper 'You remember my eyes' color? That's so… admirable!'

With that, he had leaned even closer, almost starring right into deep of the mask's sleets.

'…but masked men are not my type. I have to turn you down.' he muttered and sighed dramatically 'I know, I know, why the world is so cruel to us, people in love… but sadly, there's no solution to it… or is there.'

And with that, he moved his finger to the side of the mask, moving it down along the mask, but not pulling at it.

'Take it off, pretty boy, maybe I will change my mind.'

Ono didn't pull away or move off. The only real sign he gave of this affecting him in any way was the way his spine straightened, shoulders stiffening for a moment before being forced to loosen up.

'Why do you keep wanting to look under my mask?' he asked, hands loosening to his side, relaxed and ready. 'I told you, you won't like it.'

The unspoken threat carried on easily. _I will make you regret it._ He didn't know what the older man was trying to do or why he was acting like this, and it kept throwing him off. How did you treat a person who you expected to be so completely different to the way he apparently seemed to be? _Like someone you are meeting just now?_ The idea amused him, rather than make him ill, which provably hinted that there was something wrong in his head. Why would he have any interest whatsoever with socializing with this man?

'Because I want to see who you are, even if I won't like it.' answered the redhead truthfully, his smile diminishing into seriousness 'I don't think I know many people who would make me really regret what I would see – and all of them are dead anyway.'

He stopped, looking at the mask, biting lightly at his lower lip. For once he was without make up, all washed off almost pedantically as he was having on some remnants of it when he was unconscious. It seemed that whomever had cleaned him – be it the old man or little girl – didn't know how to do it properly. He didn't blame them, he just felt comfortable when he finally got to do it himself alone. He smiled a bit humorlessly.

'What worse could it be than enemy himself?'

And with that, he took the mask off. Beneath there were green eyes. And not the right color, either - it seemed that whatever reference the taller man had taken wasn't accurate enough - because they were a vibrant green, not the soft shade of unpolished jade that his youngest had inherited. Soft mouth, plum lower lip and light brown brows, marked by pale hair. The features were wrong, all wrong. The jaw was too strong to be Karura, the nose was too small and feminine to be Yashamaru, and all the jutsu managed was to make its user look like both the twins, rather than a specific one.

'… I'm no one you would know.' Ono said, his voice softer, the right pitch to be just androgynous enough without him trying to downright imitate the man's wife or in law. 'And if I were an enemy, it would have been easier to let you die. You apparently are more trouble than your worth.'

And he pushed at the man's chest, over the new bandages. Again, it wasn't a hard push, just a means to pull him away while purposely inflecting some pain, the mask being readjusted back in place as the other took a step back. Daichi stumbled a step away, not losing balance, but letting the push overtake him for a moment. His neutral face still stayed intact, even if he stared at the man more like at something he had never seen before in his life than at imitation of his wife and in-law.

'Your jokes are in terrible taste.' he finally said, blinking the expression away and massaging the spot where he was pushed at 'Obviously, you're someone that had been winding around for more than twelve years, or else how would you know how my wife looked like? The body had been buried deep with all the images at her death.'

And that was a lie, a blank white lie as images were buried, but in the place of the body. The thing that could be called Karura had fell and spreaded around in a gruesome, grotesque shapes, until it learnt it could take solid forms, one of them being a gourd, endlessly strapped to his youngest back. He could hear it whisper sometimes. That was a bad memory.

'Maybe I should learn my place and go for a walk.' said Daichi slowly and looked at the wall. Bad memories left bad aftertaste. 'The air in this room is suffocating.'

'I haven't, actually. I never thought I'd meet you, out of anyone else in the continent.' the man said truthfully, not that he sounded like if he actually expected the redhead to believe him. 'You are not particularly liked outside of your village, Hiiro-san. You shouldn't be surprised there's this much information about you. All it took was a messenger bird and some money and I got a lot more than I would have expected. One would think favorite color and food wouldn't be important to ninja files, but…'

The redhead turned around, his face actually shocked for one second, maybe two. Then, after a moment of hesitation, it fell back in the place.

'Suna is a rotten apple after all.' he muttered and looked out of the window 'I'm not sure why would you need to know what's my favorite color is but for such information you can ask me directly.'

'It just came with the usual stats.' the man asked, finally seeming to be satisfied with how the mask was set and adjusting the hood in his cloak. '…are you really allergic to hay?'

The redhead frowned at the words, but he smiled.

'No, whoever wrote something stupid like that?' he said, not turning around 'Only because I live on the desert doesn't mean I'm allergic to living forms of greenery. Why, are you?'

Well, the truth was that he lied. He was allergic to it, no doubt about it. But he lived too long to not search for a medication for it, which he found (well, partially) and then, he had this operation on his face… if he acted careful enough, he could hide it. Too many openings wouldn't be good, especially in front of someone who did everything to hide his identity from him, even after all he did for him.

'Yes.' the man answered, not seeming to be the least inclined to clarify what sort of greenery he was referring to. Without another word, he walked to the window, opened and calmly walked outside, a small flock of birds chirping indignantly about the invasion before settling down. The redhead watched him for a moment in silence, then smiled – a bit happily, a bit bitterly. Well, he was traveling with an allergic masked man, and he was already doubting about one of those things – and that wasn't his sex. Not yet, at least.

Looking around, he slowly doned his clothes and small make up, that could be easily taken as the make up of a female. Then, he henged himself into an average looking girl with no special features, hiding short red hair under the scarf. After that, he took a long walk into the town. That included visiting the park that seemed to be free to walk around for everyone, tracing small… objects, he could identify as birds mixed with bugs and stealing a packet of weird looking seeds that were warmed up to white puffs. It served him as a dinner, as they didn't taste bad, but weren't really all that filling. He had no regrets over what he did – in the end, he was now a dead person, and dead people couldn't be accused of stealing, right?

As nobody had pestered him, he made a round to the lake, where he looked at the surface, then walked three steps into it, surprised that water left in the open felt so chilly, and after all those exciting events he came back to his room – with scarf covering one of his eyes, empty bag of puffy seeds and an image that melted up a little and made his legs get really corny man hair – just in time to wash off the make up, undress and lay down, before the real dinner arrived. Now, after he ate weak soup with bread he could easily say he felt better. When Ono came back, it was much later at night, and the redhead was reading either something he'd found on the inn or some book he'd salvaged from his own house.

'Did you get any new holes on yourself while I was gone?' the man asked in what could almost be mistaken as a friendly manner, leaving a paper package with a few greasy spots on top of the nightstand, then producing from somewhere in his person a small, round and green object that he left next to it. The redhead looked up at him, then at the greasy paper bag, wary, but not alarmed yet.

'Not this time.' he answered almost drowsily, smudging the tones with low tone of voice 'But if that doesn't suit you, I can repair this mistake.'

His eyes looked back again to the stand, watching the round green object. With marking the page in a book by lightly tearing the paper, he rose his eyebrow in amusement.

'What is it, are you trying to buy a special place in my heart with this?' he muttered 'Where are the candles and sexy music then?'

'Sorry, I'm not interested in necrophilia.' The younger man said in an agreeable tone, going back to the window and leaning against the sill. 'I couldn't stand eating here another night and found a great place to eat. Decided to be nice and bring you something.'

'Maybe it's not about sex, but for sure it's about money.' said the redhead and hesitated with his hand above the paper bag. Then, he moved to the green fruit and picked it up. 'I haven't seen this thing for years. In Suna, if you were rich, you could eat one every few months. If you were crazy, you sell your house for ten of them.'

He moved with his nail over the skin and made it break lightly. The fresh smell of citrus filled the air, though barely as harshly as lemons of oranges. He looked up at the man and left the fruit on his lap as he looked at the bag again.

'Are you sure you're not onto something?'

'Kasumi-chan's mother is a terrible cook.' the man said lightly. 'If you are to heal faster, you better eat something better than that soup… Not than anything else on the menu is much better.'

'It's nice to hear you grew so much attached you care what I eat.' said Daichi, eyeing him for a moment, distrust easily displayed in them with… curiosity once again. The cloaked man had some irk about him that when he started thinking that maybe they weren't going to get along after all, got back on him somehow. He didn't know if it was good or bad – more like bad, because he stole the most private files about him and now had several more ways of knocking him out and roasting on small fire – the problem was that he found those game quite silly and that meant it worked. Not fully, not potentially, but his awareness was knocked out for a second or ten and that was good enough to say he was not watching his back as much as he should've. He opened the greasy paper bag slowly, not taking his eyes off the masked figure, slowly breathing with scent of pomelo filling the air. If it was poisoned by poison traceable with smell, he'd recognize it.

Maybe it was other way around. Maybe it was actually the guy behind that mask who actually let his awareness lay down for a moment and got into more human motives. Just like when he saved his life. What a soft hearted guy then… Interesting.

He finally allowed himself to look inside the bag, not really expecting anything. He had no knowledge about the cuisine of this place. They could as well eat earth or ice. It wasn't anything as foreign as that. It was something as common and simple as a flat bread chicken sandwich. A very nice looking one at that. It seemed to be chicken breast resting in lettuce and tomato, with tiny bits of red pepper for spice and melted cheese on top, which seemed to be the source of the grease stains. When the redhead finished unwrapping it, two lone sachets of mustard fell down.

'What?' was the only reaction.

'...food.' the taller man said, sounding almost pleased with himself. 'Great food, actually.'

The redhead looked at it and turned it upside down, looked at it again and then turned it around.

'…knife?...' he asked finally, looking a bit lost about where to bite or how to bite it. It seemed to be pretty big, which included him opening his mouth wide which was very ungrateful and of bad taste. At least for what he had learned for his pasty forty years. But at least when he opened one of the sachets the smell felt familiar. Much more chemical, but still known to his nostrils. He finally decided to open up the sandwich and eat each piece on its own, covering it with mustard patiently. However, when he tried to bite at tomato, it slipped and fell on the bed, staining it with juice and light red drops left by the seed. He looked at it, baffled.

'…you brought it laugh at me or to take pleasure in the fact I've reverted to eating like three years old?' he asked finally, picking up the wet tomato slices again.

Ono had the gall to quickly nod in agreement, not even attempting to pretend his intention had been anything different.

'Oh, yes.' he said, one hand slipping somewhere beneath his cloak at around the tight area and coming out with a thin dagger-like slice of metal with only a small curl of non-cutting edge metal to call a handle. He inspected it for a moment, put it back in place and produced its bigger brother from somewhere else in his anatomy, throwing it to the redhead. 'It's easier if you keep it in the wrapper.'

The redhead caught and frowned a bit, but the humor swam on his lips like a droplet of oil on water.

'Thank you.' He said, slowly cutting the thing in pieces, fully intentionally not addressing how nice the talk went and how smoothly it glided over. They were developing a gag language. What an adjustable joyous moment. 'For your effort, I mean. This food is delicious.'

'It's no effort. This is Bird Country after all.' the man said, leaning amore comfortably against the window frame. 'Makes sense their poultry will be good.'

After suffering for over three nights the completely uninspiring culinary creations of Kasumi's mother, he had been more than ready to try his luck at the numerous street stands. Generally he stayed away from them because one never really knew what you were being really given, but the one lone stand had called his attention. It brought back nice memories of what his life had been before this whole nightmare started… and he actually could see the way the food was prepared, and the hygienic measures were acceptable.

'It's a small stand about a dozen meters behind the fountain.' he said after a moment, waiting for a few seconds before producing a bag of money and leaving it on the dresser. 'You should try going there in the next day, provided you don't' accidentally trip on something and rip yourself something new.'

'Oh, how rude of you, I'm not that old yet.' muttered the redhead around the mouthful of tomato he had immediately swallowed. The difference in quality and taste of food from the house and outside it was outstanding 'Or is it a wishful thinking?'

'My wish is for me to come back and hear you are all better; instead of Moroshita-san telling me how unfortunate it is to have your organs falling off different places of your anatomy and there's no helping it but to wait for you to be cooperative.' The only way to figure out the man was playing at humor was the level of seriousness on the works that followed. 'I'm going out for a couple days. Think you'll be good to move when I come back?'

The redhead slowly lowered down his knife, looking at the masked face, his jaw moving in monotone motion, prolonging the silence. So, he was moving away. Now? Without him?

'How can I know you will be back?' he asked. How could he? There was nothing easier than leaving him off, now when he was at safe hands, without danger looking from around the corner, away; if he was on his place, he'd reconsider that too. The guilty was best left behind at the best conditions met. He looked sharply at the man and at his hands. That would explain this weird gift. 'How can I know you're not leaving me behind?'

The cloaked man cocked his head in that same curious gesture from before.

'Why would I leave you behind?'

In some manner he found sort of cute that the other would ask something like this – that he would believe he was just going to leave like that, not the man himself, obviously - apparently the Kazekage was getting attached to him or something. Yet another thing he would never had expected from this person.

'I was planning to go alone on this trip, but I've already told you I think you could be a valuable ally, and I still intend to bring you with me.' Maybe you just cured broken little birds only to release them when they were all better, but the man with the white gauze wrapped around his chest and enviable dark red hair was anything but.

'I got information about a group of criminals. I'll be going after them.' Ono adjusted his cloak and walked to the window, clearly intending to leave. 'I've been doing this while you were unconscious too, how do you think I've been financing our stay? Apparently people of your social stature don't come cheap.'

'I thought you did this on pretty eyes.' muttered Daichi, then got back to chopping the sandwich once again. Group of criminals, huh. Not one, but a few… this couldn't be a very young rookie – unless he was a killing machine. One person didn't go after bunch of criminals solo. 'This still says nothing. Leave a proof you're coming back, or I'm coming with you.'

That almost made the taller man stumble. If it had been anyone else, he would have laughed I off, because, what the hell. All it would take was one punch for the man to be reduced to a writhing and probably rather bloody mess on the floor. How did he expect to be able not only to keep up with him, but to keep up with the very dangerous people who would want to kill him?

'I'm a bounty hunter, your highness.' Ono crossed his arms in front of his chest, turning him into an interrupted mass of dark clothing from head to toe with the sole exception of the mask. 'I don't do charity. You can be sure I will be back to collect my debt. The fact I haven't exchanged you for some reward so far should be proof enough I don't plan on leaving you.'

'You look like death to me.' said Daichi, watching the shiny cloak glisten in the pale light of the evening. It was somewhat scary, but then, knowing the attitude of Ono, he wasn't half as scared as he was for the first time he met him. The fact his enemies didn't have this advantage made him smirk under his nose. 'And death doesn't go back on its words. But if you're lying, you can be sure I will hunt you down and abuse you for that humiliation.'

'Don't be so paranoid.' the man said, though there was no ill intent in his voice. 'If I wanted to leave I would have long ago. Try to listen to Moroshita-san this time and finish getting healed. We'll have to hurry when we get back.'

He had already packed everything and kept it in his scrolls for safe keeping. He had also turned his room in- if he wasn't going to be in it, there was no sense of paying for it, was there?

'We will be going to Ame next, so get everything you might need for traveling.' He wasn't sure how a Sunanin would fare on a country that was 94.5% constant raining, but he hoped it would be better than he had been at the mountains. Either way, it would be better for the redhead to get proper clothing to face such weather. Either way it was nice to know it wouldn't be the redhead who would try to go on his own forcing him to chase after him as he had initially feared would be the case. It was such an uplifting thought he even smiled behind his mask, before remembering to warn the redhead it was monsoon season. At the mention of Ame, the face of redhead had changed from gloomy to surprised and then to shining. Amegakure, the land of wars, poverty and grief that never got away. Who'd have suspected.

'Are we really?' he said in the questioning voice and then smiled. 'Now isn't that wonderful.'

Neverending rain meant neverending supplies of water. It was something completely different and so completely unexpected. Any Sunanins muttered to each other they'd escape to the land 'where water never stops flowing'. Such land was the land of Ame. And with how dirty it was it was far from paradise, being in ranks even lower than sinking Suna, but dreams were for free and nobody really tried to think about the escape for serious. The idea of entering the place ridden with water tickled him nicely around the stomach. He looked at the money.

'I have to buy new coat.' he said and smiled to himself. 'I'll be ready in no time. So you'd better hurry back.'

Ono gave him a weak nod before jumping out of the window, shaking his head at the angry squawks and chirping he got in responded by the settling birds. He ignored them and continued walking, letting them shuffle awkwardly away and then back over his steps, and he was only two buildings down when he had to stop because there was a noticeably larger, silver-grey hawk settled right on the middle of his path. It glared at him evilly with its single golden eye as if daring him to try and push him away from the path, and for a moment he actually considered letting it go flying via kick propulsion. In the end, he settled for sighing and jumping off the roof, preferring the less cluttered paths of the streets, where people had the decency to get out of his way instead of glaring at him as if they wanted an excuse to tear out his eyes.

He didn't really think it was cowardly. This was Bird Country, after all, and didn't seem smart to mess with the biggest part of the population needlessly. The hawk looked like a war bird, and who knew if it's extended family was around. The bird watched him go until he became only one of many cloaks in the crowd. Then it mustered a bit the feathers on it's left wing and flied away, just to land at the open frame of the window. Daichi greeted him with a slight nod,

'The cloaked person stood on my way but I shunned him.' squawked Washimoki instead of greetings 'I made him leave my path!' And with that, he jumped on the rail like an overgrown sparrow, visibly proud and excited at the same time.

'He was so scared he left! Sooo scarrreeed…' was almost purred out in parroty manner when suddenly the yellow eye turned toward Daichi like a gun and stilled in half of the step. Daichi looked back.

'What is it?...' asked the animal 'What is it, what is it, what are you eating?' he squawked like an annoying little squeak toy and flapped its wings a bit, once again jumping like a sparrow. The redhead wondered whether he had some ancestors in that side of the bird tree or was it only influence of sitting around different birds all the time.

'It's a sandwich.' he said around one of the last bites 'Catch.'

The thrown piece of bread was caught in less than a second. Daichi smiled a bit as he only now noticed how the big bird was on his lap before he could blink. However, he munched on the bread, making such a mess that instead of scary, he looked more of funny.

'Not so fast, you'll choke.' He muttered, knowing very well that animal will ignore him anyway. Then he looked at the knife and hid it under his pillow. He had so much to do. Company of his summon was something he thrived for, but knew he couldn't have. So he watched him for a few more minutes and sent him away. Washimoki, unhappy at that, seemed to linger at the window aimlessly for a few more minutes, trying to tell him the hottest news that fled around the bird groups there, but as much as Daichi was happy to listen to something new, the pink feathers of new generation of toucans was not really in the range of his interests. Happily, he threw bit of cheese through the window and when the hawk flew after it, he closed it, ignoring the outraged squawks about how he cheated on the bird with something that wasn't edible at all. He chuckled to himself a bit.

'Sorry, Washimoki' he murmured 'But this is something old men like me have to do alone.'

With that, he started packing.


End file.
